May the Maker Watch Over You
by Danie-Dono
Summary: Receiving a mysterious letter from the Hero of Ferelden, Cullen seeks answer, but with Grey Wardens vanishing and joining Corypheus, could he be too late?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is something that came to me last night and I just couldn't stop. I'm rather surprised I got this much written in less than twenty-four hours. I'm the only one to proof-read this so if there are any grammatical mistakes, I'm sorry.

I loved the romance in Dragon Age: Inquisition with Cullen, but I have also enjoyed reading many of the fanfiction writers that have written stories with a Cullen/Circle mage romance. I was so excited to see many familiar faces from Origins but sad that the only thing about the Warden was a letter. So I kept thinking, what if Cullen was in love with Surana? What if they encountered each other in Kirkwall during the events of Dragon Age II? What if Surana becomes caught up in the events in Dragon Age: Inquisition? So this is my AU take on how this would occur.

If you have any constructive criticism, or comments, please leave me a review. I love to hear from my readers! Enjoy!

I do not own anything Dragon Age. They belong to Bioware.

1/22/16 Edit: Adding character perspective headings. Fixed small details and proof-read.

* * *

_**Cullen Rutherford, The Commander**_

"O Maker, hear my cry:

Guide me through the blackest nights

Steel my heart against the temptations of the wicked

Make me to rest in the warmest places."

Cullen paced in the small office space, clutching tightly to the worn lyrium-infused silver ring he always carried with him. The sun had set over the mountains, the room slowly darkening and illuminate by candles around the room. He repeated a small portion of the Chant of Light again for the fifth time, pleading for clarity and peace. He had been praying since he had read the letter now discarded on the mahogany desk, wax dripping onto the parchment where the candle resting next to it.

"O Creator, see me kneel:

For I walk only where You would bid me

Stand only in places You have blessed

Sing only the words You place in my throat."

_She has to be okay. She's always okay. She always returns._

"My Maker, know my heart

Take from me a life of sorrow

Lift me from a world of pain

Judge me worthy of Your endless pride."

The commander remembered the first time she left him, her face in complete shock. It hadn't been her choice, but rather fate that made her stumbled upon a dark and tainted path. She had been rescued from the dark fate by a Grey Warden, conscripted moments before being tried for being an accessory to the escape of a Blood Mage. She had turned her head as she left, glancing in his direction. He could see a mixture of emotions in her amber eyes; pain, relief, regret. It felt as if a knife had been plunged into his heart, eerily similar to the week before when he was prepared to do the same to her as she entered the fade.

"My Creator, judge me whole:

Find me well within Your grace

Touch me with fire that I be cleansed

Tell me I have sung to Your approval."

Then she had appeared at his darkest hour, a nightmare he preferred to forget, but often haunted by nonetheless. Cullen had heard the tragic news about Ostagar. If there was a remote chance she had lived, it had been replaced with the rumors.

_No survivors. King Cailan dead. The Wardens failed. _

There had been no time to hear anything else, Kinloch Tower falling under attack by Uldred and his followers. Cullen had fought until he was captured and lead to the top of the tower with his brothers. There he watched as one by one, they all fell to the demons. When she had appeared in front of him with three other companions, he had thought she was of the fade, another temptress to seduce him from his vows. He had treated her poorly, remembering those bright eyes glazed over with unshed tears. He had nearly broken her, just as he had been. She had left for a second time; shoulders slumped, never looking back.

"O Maker, hear my cry:

Seat me by Your side in death

Make me one within Your glory

And let the world once more see Your favor."

He didn't believe he would see her again. He heard of her travels though. She had saved Redcliffe from the undead, recovered the Ashes of Andraste and healed Arl Eamon, and finally defeating the Archdemon on top of Fort Drakon. The stories seemed intangible. Cullen remembered hearing again of Ashiva by the new Templar recruits, mumbling curses.

_The queen appointed the knife ear mage as Chancellor! How can that be possible?_

_The queen gave Vigil's Keep to the Wardens. She appointed the mage as Arlessa of Amaranthine What is the world coming to?_

He soon transferred to Kirkwall and began a new life. It wasn't until the Qunari rebelled that she stumbled back into his life. He was ordering the troops when he saw the tail of silver and blue armor. She wielded a sword that glowed like starlight, lightning striking her opponent. Raven hair clung to her forehead, her face scrunched like it always had when she whispered spells into the air. Her opponent fell unconscious before her gaze fell on him, an uncertain smile on her scarlet colored lips. That night, he didn't let her leave without a word.

"For You are the fire at the heart of the world

And comfort is only Yours to give."

He gripped the ring tighter. Work had kept his mind from wandering into these memories that revolved around her. The Inquisition had given him purpose away from the Templars. He commanded troops and advised the Herald. He enjoyed it mostly, assisting young men to wield the blade. Cullen would often write to Ashiva, thinking soon she would reply once she received them. He knew she was busy and once she found what she was looking for, she would return. He prayed for her safe journey every night that she would return and the loneliness that fastened to him in the coldest nights would vanish. Her smile would warm his darkest thoughts. Her touch would heal the desperate need for his lyrium addictions. Now though, peering at the parchment, his heart dropped and the hope extinguished.

_Cullen,_

_The weather has changed. The wind blows from the West. I will be leaving the Western Approach. I will send word soon._

_A. S._

How long ago had she sent this? Days? Weeks? Months? The unknowing unnerved him, especially since Warden Alistair had appeared in the keep the night before. The warden had informed them of the deception in the Grey Wardens. He had gone into hiding after questioning the organization's decisions. Cullen had spoken to Alistair briefly when he had arrived, hoping the warrior would keep their little secret, with the promise to speak later.

Cullen stepped out of his office, breathing in the chilled crisp air. Being raised in Ferelden, he was familiar with the chill. He walked the battlements, the paper in his fist. He stepped into the dark room, breathing in the smell of a wood-burning fire, ale and smoked hog. Laughter and music were in the air. From his vantage point in the tavern, he could see glimpses of the Iron Bull, Varric, Hawke, Dorian, and Trevelyan playing Wicked Grace. He found the small table on the second floor, Alistair sitting with a mug of Antivan brandy, leg propped on a wooden chair. He sat across from the warden, placing the letter in front of the man.

"I received this a week before you arrived. I didn't think much of it until you showed up with your news," Cullen explained.

Alistair leaned forward in his chair, squinting his eyes to read the small script. His eyebrows lowered in confusion. "The Western Approach. Ash didn't mention this," he stated, glancing at the parchment again. "She shouldn't even be in this region of Thedas."

He grimaced at the nickname. Since the Fifth Blight, Alistair and Ashiva Surana had been close. He had heard the ballads of their victories as well as the whispered stories of their blossomed romance. Little else was mentioned about their relationship during their travels to defeat the Blight. After asking her once about the stories she had sighed, glancing out towards the Amaranthine sea.

"_I loved him, once,_" she admitted solemnly. _"I still do in some ways, but as does many relationships, decisions and duty broke us apart. I trust him with my life, but not with my heart._"

"Something is wrong. I can feel it," Cullen mumbled, scratching at the grain in the wood table with a nail. This news didn't settle him like he had prayed. "Do you know when she might have sent this? Is she in danger?"

"This letter is vague, it could mean anything. Nathaniel was traveling with her. If something were to happen, he would have contacted me," answered the brooding warrior.

Silence fell between the duo. Cullen stared at the lower level of the tavern, watching the bard pluck her lute with enthusiasm while Alistair drank his brandy. The tension between them had always been evident to the ex-templar. Since their first encounter in Kinloch Tower, Alistair was protective of the mage. Cullen was well aware of their conversations concerning her relationship with him. Ashiva would always smile, her cat-like eyes glowing with amusement.

"_I can't help it that I like a little danger in my life," _she would say nudging him on the shoulder as she walked by. He didn't blame the man though for his mistrust. Cullen deserved the allegations against him.

He rubbed at his neck, feeling the pressure headache forming. Thoughts of the gore and death in Kinloch Tower flashed through his mind. He could almost smell the stench of death surrounding him in the small tavern in the high mountains. Even after a decade, his hands sweat, and his muscles tensed.

_Now is not the time_, he reprimanded himself. He exhaled, looking back at the man sitting near him. "Look Warden, I haven't heard from Ashiva for months, and then I get this message. I haven't been able to sleep peacefully since receiving this and I will not find peace until I know she is safe."

"She told me why you joined the Inquisition," Alistair said, his voice wavering. "The Seekers were searching for her. They wanted answers from her, her leadership- something she wanted nothing to do with it. Ash had done more than enough with political bullshit. We both had," he laughed harshly, pouring more brandy into his mug. "She came to you. Wanted your protection. No matter how much I tried to convinced her not to go to Kirkwall, she did anyway. You got her out of their sight, and convinced them to let you join them. They stopped searching after you joined the seeker."

"I found her phylactery, and destroyed it," Cullen whispered. He had promised to protect her, to always keep her safe. "I wouldn't let them use her like the Ferelden's nobility used her."

Alistair's eyes glazed over, his eyes distant. A bitter smile curved on his lips. "She always loved you. Even when we...she always loved you."

_And I her. _"Then you must know why I need to find her."

Sighing, Alistair scratch the stubble on his chin in thought. "Hawke and I will leave tomorrow to scout ahead. I'll see what I can find out. I'll also let Leliana send word to Vigil's Keeps. Perhaps Oghren has heard something from Nathaniel or Ash."

Alistair stood up, stretching with a yawn. King Maric's bastard son grinned, finally looking like the young warden he had met long ago. "If you'll excuse me, I really want to get a chance to have a restful nights sleep dreaming of darkspawn and ancient darkspawn magisters bringing back the Blight."

Cullen watched the warden leave, before leaving the way he came. He remembered many nights when Ashiva woke in the night, screaming and gasping for breath. Sometimes she would talk, confessing the gruesome nightmares of death and carnage. Many times she remained silent, leaving the room for fresh air and to gaze up at the starry sky.

"Ash, darling, where are you," he silently whispered, lifting himself from the wooden chair.

Closing his eyes, he allowed himself to imagine her smile, her laughter for a moment longer, imagining the smell of cinnamon and pine that seem to linger on her. Exhaling, he opened his eyes, his mind clearing from the worry and desperation to find her. There would be a time to dwell on it later.

* * *

"_Cullen?"_

_She lowered her sword, sheathing it in the holster attached to her hip. Ashiva walked cautiously towards him, waved her hand, a gesture for the wardens at her side to step away. Her black hair was braided, blowing on the sea breeze. Despite being tied back, he noticed her hair was longer than he recalled, falling below her shoulder blades. She cradled her injured left hand, amber eyes watching him with interest. Even covered in sweat and a blood smear on her cheek, she was still radiant. _

"_Ashiva? What...what are you doing here?" He grimaced. Out of all the things he could say or do, that was the first thing he could think of?_

_She smiled mischievously, looking around her. "Oh you know, investigating Grey Warden secrets. It seems no matter where I go, trouble tends to find me. Of course the night we arrive, the Qunari decided to eradicate the city."_

_Cullen failed to hide the smirk forming on his lips. "No rest for the wicked. Even after all these years, you still find yourself in the middle of chaos."_

"_So it seems," her face darkened. She looked at the wardens around her, before turning back to him. "We should be going."_

_Ashiva walked briskly away, calling out orders. Cullen watched, the dark cloak around her shoulders moving with each step. He remembered the moment she had walked away from him in the circle; how he had regret everything he had said and did. He wouldn't let her leave until he had his say. Talking three large steps, he caught her wrist, disrupting her shouts._

"_Ashiva," he started, a loss for words. "I-I...thank you."_

_He didn't realize how cold her eyes had been until that moment. She looked down, her injured hand absently brushing the loose tendrils from her face. "Its my duty to help those in need."_

_He let her go. "May the Maker watch over you, Ashiva."_

"_And you, Cullen."_

_It wasn't enough, but he finally was able to thank her. Thank her for protecting the city of Kirkwall, and for saving his life years ago in the circle. He was able to thank her for saving the templars she could, and protecting the mages that were innocent, even if he had believed they all were evil. Including her. _

* * *

"Inquisitor, did you need something?"

Inquisitor Evelyn Trevelyan leaned against the wall, her blue eyes staring intently at the window behind him. Dark auburn hair was pulled back into a tight bun, her smile light and distant. Since their first encounter in Haven, Evelyn had become a friend to him. Someone Cullen could trust to lead he and his troops into battle. Although she was a fine warrior and an attractive woman, the former templar couldn't help wishing for amber eyes, a teasing smile and ebony hair.

"I saw you speaking with Warden Alistair last night in the tavern," Evelyn started, moving closer to his large ornate desk. "I wasn't aware that you were already acquainted."

Cullen shrugged nonchalantly, picking up a stack of reports. "He was with the Hero when Kinloch Tower was under attack by blood mages. We've encountered one another in Kirkwall from time to time as well."

The Inquisitor pursed her lips, eyebrows knitting together in thought. She leaned against the desk, her hand resting on the wooden surface to maintain her balance. "It didn't seem to be a friendly chat to catch up on life's events. If something is concerning you, you can talk to me," she said, chewing on her bottom lip nervously. "At least I thought, you understood that."

Seeing her like this, concern and nervous, always reminded Cullen just how human Trevelyan was. It was easy to place her above everyone with titles like noblewoman, The Herald of Andraste, Inquisitor, and Savior of Haven. He straighten the papers, fighting to keep his gaze elsewhere.

"I-I can't tell you everything right now Lady Trevelyan," he stuttered, before he cleared his throat. "I mean, I want to, but I feel uncomfortable relating so little information to you concerning this matter. Once I have gathered enough information concerning the matter, I will come to you."

She smiled, her eyes reflected her understanding, and she pushed herself from the desk. "Alright, fair enough. Anything else to report, Commander?"

"I found where the red templar came from. Therinfal Redoubt," Cullen reported, pulling his hands behind his back as he began to pace around the room. "The knights were fed red lyrium until they turned into monsters. Samson took over after their corruption was complete."

"Samson? Was that the man you mentioned you recognized in Haven," Evelyn asked, her eyes following him around the room. "How do you know him?"

"Yes, Samson was there," Cullen answered, looking over his shoulder. "He was a templar in Kirkwall, until he was expelled from the Order. I knew he was addicted, but this..."

He shook his head, fighting the images of his brothers falling under his blade, their skin and eyes burning red. It had been a shock to him in Haven fighting against people he once thought as brothers. After the corruption, he couldn't even recognized them. His face scrunched in disgust at the thought. "Red lyrium is nothing like the lyrium given by the Chantry. Its power comes with a terrible madness."

"The red templars swarming Haven were proof enough," the newly appointed Inquisitor noted.

Cullen agreed. "We cannot allow them to gain strength. The red templars still require lyrium. If we find their source, we can weaken them and their leader."

Evelyn frowned, crossing her arms. "Are you angrier at Corypheus or Samson?"

The Commander sighed. "I don't know," he admitted. "Samson, at least, should know better."

"Is this what's been bothering you? Samson's betrayal."

"One of many things, Inquisitor," Cullen replied, moving back to the desk. He pulled the worn map, moving his gloved finger along the marked roads. "Caravans of red lyrium are being smuggled along the trade roads. Investigating them could lead to where it's being mined."

"Warden Alistair mentioned the Western Approach. We will be traveling on the Imperial Highway, so we will be sure to keep an eye out for those caravans," the brunette said.

Cullen could feel his head beat rapidly at the mention of the Western Approach. Perhaps they would find Warden-Commander Surana or something leading to her where abouts. "If you confront them, be wary. Anything connected to Samson will be well guarded."

Lady Trevelyan shook her head, patting him lightly on the shoulder. "You worry too much. We'll be fine," she laughed. "Warden Alistair, Hawke, Varric, Dorian and Cassandra will be accompanying me. If anything even happens, I wouldn't be surprised if Scout Harding popped out of the bushes and rescued the day. She's a tricky one."

"I can agree with you on that," he nodded. "Now excuse me, you're worship, I need to observe the new recruits on the training grounds."

* * *

"_I'm glad you decided to join me before you left," Cullen replied, filling Ashiva's glass before sitting himself._

_The elven mage smiled nervously, swishing the Orlesian wine. Her blue and silver armor was clean, polished after weeks of battle in the deep roads. Her face was solemn, and dark. Being this close to her, he saw new wrinkles on her forehead and cheeks. Were they laugh marks or had the years been so dreadful, she no longer smiled and laughed like she had done as an apprentice mage?_

"_Its nice to be able to sit and enjoy some pleasantries in life, even if it is only for a short time," carefully she answered, as if she were speaking to one of the nobles in Amaranthine. _

_Cullen frowned. Sure, he had dealt with a few of the nobles around Kirkwall, particularly Hawke, but he never had to play the Game, as he had heard many Bards call it. Pleasantries and ambiguous phrases were not something he was well versed in. He had not expected her to develop the sharp tongue. _

_The Hanged Man was quieter than usual. He recognized some familiar faces, the dwarf Hawke befriended, the pirate who shamelessly flirted with him, and the Dalish elf that he had suspicions about. Taking a large drink, he felt the ale burn as it went down, praying for discernment and at least something to talk about. _

_Fortunately for him, Ashiva ended the silence. "I went back to the Circle a year after the Blight. I was...searching for something. Gregoir informed me you were no longer there but had transferred to Kirkwall."_

_The Templar sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "There were too many ghosts there. Too many memories I wished to forget."_

"_I see. I'm sorry, I wish I had been there sooner. Maybe if I had…"_

"_If you had, you could have been killed with the other mages," Cullen interrupted harshly, looking at her directly. He hated seeing her look so broken. "Ashiva, I hate to rehash the past, but what happened can't be changed. And...what I said to you in there, I can't undo. I hated mages then, I still have some distrust for many. But I never was apprehensive towards you. You saved me from the demons that haunted me and saved my life and the life of many others. I could never thank you enough for that...and I hope one day you could forgive me in my weakest moment. What I said to you then…"_

_A warm hand moved to cover his armored glove, quieting him. "Cullen, what happened to you was appalling. I couldn't have expected you to think clearly after the weeks of torture you endured, much less take judgment on your vile words. I was upset, yes, for many months, but I learned to see from another perspective, and I slowly forgave you."_

_Her smile was gentle, her eyes glittered like the stars in the sky. He could feel his stomach fluttered, old feelings seeming to return. Feeling bold, he twisted his wrist, claiming her hand in his. "I...that's good to hear."_

_They stared at each other for some time. He couldn't' help but wonder about the events in their lives. What if he had not joined with the Templar Order? Would he have met her? Would he be able to act on his feelings? What if she were not a mage? Would she be with the Grey Wardens now? Or would she have fallen to the Blight? He looked at their hands, his lightly holding her smaller hand. Her skin was darker now, sun kissed from the many days she traveled in the outdoors. Cullen saw the calluses on her lithe fingers from wielding the sword and probably many other weapons, fighting bandits and darkspawn. He saw a faint scar across the back of her hand, probably from a dagger from the many battles she had witnessed. _

"_I should be going," he said, the words sour in his mouth. He had to report back to the Gallows and she to Amaranthine. They had lives separate from each other, duties that had to be fulfilled. _

_Ashiva nodded her agreement, reclaiming her hand again. She stood, stifling a yawn. "Yes. Alistair will be worried if I stay out any longer. He'll feel he is missing out on something."_

"_Ashiva…"_

"_Cullen, call me Ash."_

"_Ash," the name slipped past his lips, a crooked smile on his lips. He couldn't just let her go, especially now that she had returned. "May I write to you in Amaranthine?"_

_The elven woman look befuddled, before she shook her head. "What about the order? I know I'm a Grey Warden now, but I am still a mage. Wouldn't it be frowned upon?"_

"_You're not just a warden but the one who saved Ferelden from the Fifth Blight," Cullen added, grinning. "All they will know is a relative of mine joined the Ferelden Grey Wardens."_

_Ashiva chewed on her lip nervously, before she nodded. "Alright, as long as I can write to you as well. May the Maker watch over you, Cullen."_

"_And you, Ash."_


	2. Chapter 2

**May the Maker Watch Over You**

**Chapter 2**

A/N: I had originally wrote the first chapter, because it was something that wouldn't stop pestering me until it was said. I honestly didn't think more would come out of it. Yet, here is another chapter (and I still have more swimming in my brain). I also want to take the time to thank those who have read, commented, favorited and followed this story. It warms my heart that someone enjoyed this. Here is my thanks: **Kyla Baines**, **ErsbethShadowSong**, and **wildfire1977**. Please forgive the mistakes, I proofread this myself and could have missed something. I am looking for a beta for this story, so if anyone is interested, let me know. :)

Also, wanted to let you know that I have drawn a picture of Ashiva Surana! You can find a link to my deviantart page to see it on my profile!

1/24/16 Edit: Added character pov headings. Proof-read.

* * *

**Ashiva Surana, The Hero**

The prisoner inhaled painfully, fighting to fill her lungs with air. She was slumped on the stone floor, lifeless, unable to remember how long she had been here, or where _here_ was. The elven woman knew only a few things. One, the chill she suffered days ago had disappeared. Although relieved, she knew that it was a bad omen of her health. Another thing she knew was her mind was slowly being manipulated. Soon, she would be overwhelmed by the madness. She was uncertain of the authenticity of the memories she clung to. The faces of people she believed were allies and friends were becoming flawed and distorted but the ceaseless whispers.

She exhaled painfully, the broken rib making it a struggle. She could no longer call for help or scream, her voice exhausted from the tortured her that broke her resolve. The elf had nearly crumbled from the pain, seeing only nightmares. In her dreams she ran from an unknown enemy. In her waking hours, she observed the red crystal surrounding the three walls of her prison. The abnormal rock had grown, she was aware of that, but was puzzled as to how. Despite how far she pushed herself from it, she feared that it would soon eat at her, like a vulture to its prey.

How had she gotten into this prison? Her mind blurred through the details. She saw images a woman standing proud in blue and silver armor, a magical sword held in her right hand. The woman covered her head and face with the blue scarf to protect herself from the sand storm, looking behind her at dark haired archer, wearing similar armor. Who was this woman?

The images blurred again the elven woman kneeled; defeated as the lyrium chains were clasped around her wrists. Before her were two mages, another female wearing blue armor, a staff gripped tightly in both hands. The second was a male, his hair and face unkempt, like he had been in the desert for weeks. The elf pleaded with the woman, trying to find the right words to have the mage see reasoning.

"_Clarel, this is madness. This will not help our cause but destroy everything we have built for our order. Raising the last Old Gods will only bring chaos. Thedas cannot withstand another blight! It nearly destroyed Ferelden."_

"_Is it no more mad than what you did? How did you survive after stabbing the monster through the skull? What did you and the bastard king do to deserve to live when so many have fallen before you," the mage, Clarel countered, her eyes cold. _

_The arcane warrior looked down, her fingers brushing against the sandy granite path. These questions unsettled her. They were secrets she would keep to protect those she cared for._

"_This will not end the blights, Clarel. This will only destroy any hope for all of Thedas. What will the people do when there are no Grey Wardens? Who will stand against the darkspawn when we are gone?"_

_The man stepped up, looking at the mage. "She is no use to us like this," he advised, rubbing at his neglected goatee. "There is an organization that can hold her, help her see reasoning. I'll arrange for them to come and take her. They would help us."_

Her mind grew hazy. She closed her eyes, focusing on something, anything to keep from subcomming to the darkness. The elven woman could hear _it_, pounding in her head. The _singing_ was driving her mad, leaving little room for anything else.

"Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter. Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just," she whispered, her voice hoarse and worn. Her mind grew blank. What were these words? Where had she heard this before? "Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow. In their blood the Maker's will is written."

* * *

"_A Grey Warden Prison in the Vinmark Mountains? Its hard to believe, Bethany," Ashiva commented, tracing the route on the map._

"_Believe me, I saw it Commander. I was there with my brother. What was there was atrocious," Bethany confirmed, shuffling on her feet restlessly. "I thought this was something that should be brought to your attention."_

_The young Mage had been recruited to the Ferelden Wardens nearly three years ago, after the Qunari had attacked Kirkwall. Ashiva admired Bethany, her kind and gentle spirit was something that soothed her and had settled the strong personalities of her assemblage. Since that time, the human mage had become accustomed to the misfited crew at Vigil, and even grown close to a particular member, Nathaniel Howe. _

_Ashiva nodded her head, carefully going through the documents again that elder Hawke had gathered and sent with his sibling. "It wouldn't be something too terrible to investigate. I also received word from the First Warden that we are needed to investigate the deep roads located near Kirkwall. I believe you have been there with your brother before."_

_The elf noticed how Bethany tensed. She knew of the woman's nightmares that woke her in the night. She had nearly died in there. Luckily, the girl had found Grey Warden Shroud who had taken her in. How she came to find the Wardens nearby, Ashiva did not know. _

"_Yes, Commander," Bethany replied, nodding her head in respect as she stepped out of the office._

_Ashiva sighed, shaking her head. "What do you think, Alistair?"_

"_We can't really say no to the First," Alistair began nonchalantly. "He's already frustrated with us for the whole Fifth Blight and not dying tradition. And a Prison that held a magistar is worth investigating. I suggest we check it out. Maybe we could take in some of the sights of Kirkwall while we're at it."_

"_You're not going," The mage ordered, keeping her eyes on the work in front of her. She avoided looking at her long-time friend. "I need someone to stay here and keep Vigil afloat."_

"_Then who's going with you," Alistair challenged. "Ashiva, you're walking into some kind of trap. Just from what Bethany said about the prison, anything can happen in there. And the thaig-"_

"_Alistair, I already made my decision," Ashiva shouted, amber eyes meeting blue. "Nathaniel and Oghren will be the senior Wardens accompanying me as well as a dozen more Wardens to put your mind at ease."_

_Alistair frowned. "That really doesn't put my mind at ease."_

_Ashiva stepped away from her desk to rest her hand on the Warden's breastplate. "Someone needs to stay here and keep Amaranthine protected. I trust you to lead my men if something was to happen to me or to my city."_

"_I," Alistair swallowed, grabbing her hand to hold in his. "Just be careful."_

_Ashiva smiled, squeezing his hand in comfort. "Aren't I always careful?"_

* * *

_Alistair._ The name brought warmth and comfort to her broken body. She could remember his face-bright blue eyes and a crooked smile and his obsession with cheese.

She also remembered the Grey Warden prison. It is where she encountered the dark magic that had disturbed her for years and where she met the Orlesian Warden-Commander, Clarel.

"Traitor," she whispered hoarsely. Her memory was beginning to come back to her momentarily, jumbled and unclear, but still returning nonetheless.

She squinted into the dimly lit room, taking in the details of the enclosed space. Red stalactites covered the walls surrounding her. Her right leg, broken by one of her captors, had been poorly splinted She couldn't call on her magic, the observation making her realize that someone was able to make anti-magic wards nearby. Propping herself on the metal bars of the cage, she brushed her hand along the twisted ropes around her right wrist. She knew it was promises to someone from her past but the throbbing pain in her head disrupt her thoughts of whom the promises were for.

"My name is Ashiva Surana. I am the Chancellor of Fereldan as well as the Arelessa of Amaranthine. I am the Warden-Commander of Ferelden," she spoke aloud the titles she had become familiar with for a decade, fighting for some focus in the scattered images in her mind. "I am a mage. I am the Hero of Ferelden. I am Ashiva Surana."

"_You won't be for much longer_," the melodic voice whispered, blending harmoniously to the music that left her uneasy.

Her heart skipped a beat. Was the voice in her head? Was it a demon? Had she be forced into the fade? Holding the bracelet tighter, she clung to the remaining understanding she possessed. "My name is Ashiva Surana. I am Chancellor of Ferelden. I am the Warden-Commander of Ferelden and Arlessa of Amaranthine. I am a mage. I am the Hero of Ferelden. I am a mage, an elf."

* * *

_The weeklong traveling had left her weary and exhausted. Her dreams of darkspawn had evolved to incorporate her fear of water. She never felt more relieved to see land than when she saw the ancient Tevinter statutes that marked Kirkwall's docks. _

_Stepping a foot onto the brick docks, the elf checked with her subordinates, issuing orders in preparation for their trek into the mountains. She glanced at Nathaniel, handing him the maps she acquired. "I want you to take a few men and investigate the deep road ruins not far from here. I assume Bethany gave you directions as to getting there."_

_The rogue nodded, folding the documents and tucking them into his armor. "Are you sure you want to leave me with this?"_

_Ashiva smiled, resting her hand on his shoulder. "I have my trust in you to find what the First Warden wants and to return safely, my friend. I don't trust anyone more than you to do this," she confirmed. "Take five with you. You can choose whoever you like."_

_He acknowledged her with a slight nod, before stepping forward commanding a small group wardens. She smiled, watching as her second-in-command and long-time friend stood tall. Ashiva could remember when she had found him dirty and dishonored in a prison cell. Distrust was apparent in their first encounters, their conversations brisk and her eyes always watching him. Soon though, that distrust disappeared. She now couldn't imagine being without him in Kirkwall, fighting darkspawn. _

_Oghren laughed heartedly next to her, patting her roughly on the back. "Don't get too sentimental there, boss. At least wait until you have a couple of beers in you."_

_The elf coughed, clearing her throat. She looked down at the dwarf, grinning widely. "Do please save a few, Oghren? I'd hate to miss out on our drinking games."_

_The warden scoffed, raising his axe onto his shoulder with ease. "Aye, I'll try. But you best hurry up, or else I will finish the keg before you even step foot into Lowtown."_

_Shaking her head, she waved the dwarf off. Her wardens would be fine without her watching over them. The need to move urged her forward, her eyes wandering the wares and the colorful banners hanging above the streets. Although she had been out of the Circle for nearly ten years, Ashiva was still in awe of the city. She often took trips to Amaranthine to partake in festivals and celebrations. _

_The elf wander through Hightown, impressed with the climbing ivy growing on the stone mansions. The nobles gave her a wide girth, muttering to themselves. She knew their eyes followed her thirsting to have knowledge of her presence. She was grateful that they had little knowledge of who she was._

_She stopped in front of the towering building, the red banners blowing in the breeze. The Chantry of our Lady Redeemer in Amaranthine, although beautiful in its simplicity, didn't compared to the grandiose golden statues and stained glass windows of Kirkwall's chantry. Drained from her trip, Ashiva surmised that prayer would invigorate her weary spirit. _

_She hadn't made it half way up the stairs when she collapsed, grasping her chest, shocked. Her mana was depleted leaving her defenseless. She didn't have to see the broadswords pointed at her. Templars._

"_On behalf of the acting Viscount and Knight-Commander Meredith, you're coming with us," The man ordered, lifting her to her feet. She pushed away from the templar grabbing her arm, muttering incoherently. Why was it so hard to speak?_

_She was startled to feel metal clash against her cheek, yelping at the sudden contact. The mage coached herself to take deep breaths, laying on the marble steps. She felt the arms grab her again, dragging her down the steps. Ashiva stumbled to lift herself to her feet, her vision clearing. _

_There were two of them, faces covered by the grand helmets standard to the templar uniform. Swords were gripped tightly, ready to strike the "apostate" at their feet. Even in the blue and silver uniform, she was mistaken as a threat to the Order. Shakily, she moved forward, leaning heavily on the man to her left. _

"_You can't do this. This is the Commander of the Grey," Nathaniel shouted somewhere behind her. _

_Turning her head, she was surprised to see the archer step out from the shadows, bow aimed at the men holding her. Nathaniel had followed her around again. He often escorted her in Amaranthine, hiding in the shadows of the buildings and battlements. The rogue believed her something worth protecting. Was her friend such a fool to put the wardens in jeopardy because of her? "Nathaniel, stand down," commanded the mage. She caught a glimpse of Nathaniel's dark eyes, cold and calculated on his next target. "Warden, you have your duties. Perform them well, and I shall join you soon."_

"_Ash-"_

"_Nate, do not make me ask you again," she snapped. Standing upright, head held high, she eyed the templar that held her elbow. "You have me. Take me to your Knight-Commander. I would love to hear why they need to dispel a Grey Warden mage, one that is no longer part of the circle, of their mana when they haven't threatened anyone."_

_She was dragged through Hightown and back on boat (to her dismay). Lead through the Gallows, templars and mages alike stared as she walked by them. She could hear the whispers. 'Grey Warden?' 'Hero of Ferelden?' She stumbled alongside the templar, fighting the curses that she wanted to shout._

_They halted in front of the large office. Well furnished in bookshelves and an ornate desk, she sat down in the high back red velvet chair. She looked around, her gaze falling on the broad shouldered woman sitting across from her at the desk._

"_I presume you are the Knight-Commander," the elven mage stated bitterly, crossing her arms across her chest. _

"_Yes, and you are a warden. What are you doing in Kirkwall?"_

_Ashiva lifted her eyebrows, astonished. This was not the first time she had entered the city. Her and many others had traveled back and forth with little problems in the past. Why was it now that she had been seized and taken to the Gallows? "We have business outside of Kirkwall."_

"_What business?"_

_She was ready to tell the woman sod off, when the door was barged open, an elf dressed in enchanted robes, his dark eyes incensed. The Warden slumped farther into her seat, assuming things were only beginning._

_"Knight-Commander Meredith, this is completely uncalled for," he declared, moving to stand beside the warden. "This is a Grey Warden. You are withholding this warrior from their duty by keeping her and the other Warden mages trapped in the keep."_

"_Warden or not, Orsino, she is still a mage and I will not have her or the others parading through the town causing havoc," the templar answered._

_Looking between the two, Ashiva could sense the tension between them. She had heard the rumors of mage rebellion in Kirkwall and the tightened grip of the acting vicount. She never realized it was this bad. She remained silent, hoping to not stir the pot farther._

_The door opened again. Ashiva frowned, turning to see who else wanted to join their little party. The familiar silver metal and insignia of the Templar order was engraved into the armor. Her eyes traveled upward, startled to see golden eyes and short curly chestnut colored hair. He hadn't shaved recently, but the sincerity she was accustomed too was there. "Cullen," she whispered unwittingly._

* * *

**The Commander**

"_Cullen."_

He darted out of the bed falling onto the wooden floor tangled in blankets. Bewildered, he looked around. Cullen wasn't in the circle tower, nor was he watching from a distance her cries for help. He was in his loft, staring at the torn holes in the ceiling. He knew it was night, the stars twinkling. Untangling himself and putting on his leather boots, he left the safety of his office.

The mountain air was crisp, wisps of air visible as he exhaled. Crossing his arms on the stonewalls, he observed the small fires surrounding the keep. He could hear the cheers and shouts in the tavern contrasting to the light and delicate lute played by the minstrel. He would normally close his eyes, relaxing to the calamity being here, but tonight the images behind his eyelids were averting and frightening. Watching his love repeatedly tortured and killed before him, agitated him. The dreams had gotten worse the longer he was left with no news.

The faint sound of footsteps alerted him of a prowler. Resting his hand on the pommel of his sword, he turned his head. The Orlesian Bard stepped out of the darkened shadows. "For the love the Andraste, Leliana," Cullen muttered under his breath, shifting his weight to allow the spymaster to lean against the battlements. "You could have alerted me it was you."

Leliana chuckled, tucking a red strand of hair back behind her ear. She had lowered her hood, revealing her delicate features. Her pale blue eyes glowed in the firelight, like a cat stalking her prey. The templar found it unnerving that she could hide in the shadows like a ghost, appearing and disappearing, as she liked. "Maybe next time," she stated, lightness in her voice he was unaccustomed to.

Cullen rubbed his neck, nerves overcoming his thought process. It was common for the bard and Antivan woman to tease him. Evelynn had picked up on this in the war room, smirking, as she would add to the tormenting conversation. Now though, he felt vulnerable. Leliana was an accomplished spymaster, seeming to know everything about everyone in Skyhold. "What can I do for you?"

The Nightingale cradled her head in her arms, her eyes distant and cold. "Did I ever tell you the story about when Ashiva arrived in Haven?"

The warrior's mouth twitched into a grimace at the mention of the mage that captivated him. Even now, he was willing to resign his position from the Inquisition and track the woman himself with the small portion of blood he had kept after destroying the phylactery. It was always with him, the tiny container hanged on his neck. "No, I don't think so," he answered politely.

"We had marched for days from Denerim. The further south we went, the colder it seemed to get, but Ashiva wouldn't quit. She kept going, determined. She had made choices that haunted her at Redcliff, letting the little boy die. She didn't want to repeat the same mistake," Leliana recalled. "We arrived in Haven exhausted, to find the place not what we expected. There was so much blood. It was...unnerving. We cleared the village, and made camp in one of the buildings that didn't have so much gore. Through her scavenging, she had stumbled on a tavern."

Leliana laughed softly, face full of mischief. "We ended up playing a game she played often in the circle. How she found the dice, she never told me, but here we were gambling. The first one out was Alistair. Poor fool had no skills in lying. Then Oghren became incapacitated. He kept drinking when he wasn't supposed to. And the game continued till there were only a Zeveran, Ashiva and myself. I don't remember how the game ended but when I woke in the morning, I sneaked out to see how she had accomplished this task. I unveiled her dice and found them blank. There were no marks whatsoever. I learned then not to play any dice games with her."

Cullen chuckled. He could imagine Ashiva cheating to win. It reminded him how she would cheat when she played chess. Once in a while he would let her. It added a challenge to the game. "I can imagine her doing that."

Leliana looked up, her face etched in curiosity and sadness. "Which brings me to why I'm here. Ashiva is one of my closest friends and the only person I trust completely. I haven't heard from her in some time. I have prayed for her safety and avoided thinking about what might have happened,"she spoke softly. "Alistair came to me before he left. He told me of the letter Ashiva sent and that you asked for him to search for her. I had expected if something had happened, you would have come to me. Why didn't you tell me?"

Frowning, the templar clenched his fist. Of course the warden would go to the spymaster. They had known each other for many years and had relied on one another during the Blight. Avoiding her gaze, he watched his men patrol the battlements.

"I wasn't trying to keep this from you. I didn't think much of it until Alistair arrived and explained the conspiracy in the Warden ranks. I went to him because she isn't usually far behind him. They've confided in each other for so long," he fought to keep the jealousy out of his voice. "I didn't think her disappearance was a concern of the Inquisition. The Inquisitor has enough on her hands as it is."

"Maybe the Inquisitor is busy, but I could have still looked into this. If I had known, I would have already sent my agents out. She could have already returned safely," Leilana chided, her eyes darkening in anger. "She is like a sister to me. If something were to happen to her...I-I don't know what I would do."

Cullen nodded his head, unable to argue with the woman. She was right. He failed again. He could imagine Ashiva now, a lopsided smile and eyes bright. "_I know you're not that great at this...but, I'm just thrilled you're willing to try this with me._" She would whisperer, her hand resting in his as if it had always been there. Her small pale hand always seemed to fit in his bulky armored one perfectly. He was disappointed to see his hand empty. He had felt hollow since she had waved him goodbye on top of the spotted horse she adored. There was a chance he wouldn't see her smile or hold her hand in his again.

Leliana grabbed his arm, drawing him out of his misery. "Lady Trevelyn arrived in the Western Approach a few days ago with little trouble on the road and has reported. She said that they found Grey Wardens under the influences of the Venetori. They were sacrificing themselves, to summon demons," she explained. "Alistair also wrote that Ashiva wasn't present, but they did find the warden she had been traveling with. They haven't been able to question him, but they will be returning soon. I asked Scout Harding and a few other agents to search the area to and to also to check to make sure nothing was missed. I have faith they will find something."

"What makes you so sure? Alistair didn't notice anything and neither did the Inquisitor," Cullen challenged.

Leliana smirked, standing upright and crossing her arms across her chest. "Alistair is a warrior and not necessarily the best to keep an eye on details. Evelyn doesn't even know what to search for concerning our friend. I wouldn't be surprised at all if she didn't know you were in a relationship. You tend to be reserved when it comes to discussing your loved ones," she pointed out. "Also, they're not me and haven't be trained by me."

"Harding will return by the end of the week with the information. In the mean time, we should be getting supplies and equipment. I will inform Josie of the situation and see what she can gather. I have a feeling we will be forced to wield blades against the Grey Wardens," she added, walking away. "Goodnight Cullen. I'll see you in the War Room tomorrow."

Cullen watched her walk away. It looked as if her form slowly dissolved in the darkness, leaving him alone to his thoughts. Although small, he still had hope for Ashiva had been found, unharmed. With Leliana and Alistair searching, perhaps they would be able to find her before everything came undone.

Weary with these thoughts, he kneeled on the hard rock surface, impervious to the thoughts and rumors that could rise about him in this moment of weakness. There was only one thing he could do in the meantime. Closing his eyes, he began to pray.

"The Light shall lead her safely

Through the paths of this world, and into the next."

_Maker, please watch over her as you have done countless times before. _

For she who trusts in the Maker, fire is her water.

As the moth sees light and goes toward flame,"

_Keep her safe._

"She should see fire and go towards Light.

The Veil holds no uncertainty for her,"

_Give her strength in her weakest hour._

"And she will know no fear of death, for the Maker

Shall be her beacon and her shield, her foundation and her sword."

_Bring her home._


	3. Chapter 3

May the Maker Watch Over You

Chapter 3

A/N: Thank you to all of you who continue to follow/favorite this story and continuing to read. I don't know if I can promise updates to be this fast, but I am happy to get another chapter written so soon. Here is a shout out to **xxxkris44**, **Kyla Baines**, **mateusoc**, and **dekicobee**.

Also, I do not own Dragon Age. All credit remains to their wonderful creators at Bioware. I just like to play in the playground.

**Edited**: 3/2/16-fixed spelling and grammatical errors. Added subtitles to each character's POV. Added Oghren POV, added additional dialogue to help with backstories and plot flow.

* * *

**Warden Oghren, The Beserker**

"Put your sodding backs into it you nug-lickers," the dwarf shouted over the clashes of swords, his foot tapping to the staccato beat of the rain pelting onto their heads.

The weather was unusually warm throughout Drakonis, rain falling instead of the snow and ice that was common this time of year. Oghren didn't mind however, relieved to be able to breath in the surface air. He returned a month ago from Orzammar, searching for clues on the Warden-Commander's whereabouts and delivering the shipments of lyrium that had been ordered prior to Orlais taking control of the Ferelden Wardens.

He leaned on his axe solemnly, feeling the texture of the stone for the thousandth time since Ashiva's departure nearly a year ago. His friend had in a rush, with little explanation for her departure.

"_It may be the one thing that we have been missing all along_," she had spoke rapidly, packing the maps into her satchel. "_I will not continue to stand by watching my wardens fall rapidly to the Calling and do nothing about it._"

She had left few verbal directions, instead leaving him the small crystal. The Warden-Commander smiled. "_I know your distaste for magic, but everything you need to know is here. Don't let anyone know you have this in your possession or by the giant stones of the Dwarfson, I will drown you in horse piss,_" she laughed aloud, shaking her head. "_This is a memory crystal. It contains my directions if should anything happen in my absence._ _Keep it close. If the Maker is on my side, I shall return._"

It remained the unusual greenish yellow, despite the grime, mud and blood that had fallen on the stone. If he closed his eyes, he could still feel the magic humming around it, reminding him of the mage it once belonged to. He missed the glory day, when things seemed much simpler. All he had to do then was point his blade towards darkspawn and fight. Now responsibility lay on his shoulders. He could imagine the shock on Branka's face if she could see him. He swallowed the bile, his lip twitching at the thought; he preferred not to be reminded of those days.

He heard the clinking of metal, his sense kicking in to prepare for an attack. Lifting his axe from his holster, he turned slowly.

Seneschal Garevel loomed over him, the silverite armor glistening in the rain. On impulse, Oghren saluted, pressing his fist to his armored chest, before shouting for the men to disband from their training. The human warrior assessed the troops walking through the rain, his blue eyes calculating their worth.

"I see the old ball and chain isn't around," the dwarf commented, frankly. He had briefed upon his arrival that many of the Commander of the Grey's associates had been transferred to other warden branches, intentionally crippling the Ferelden Wardens, the fiery Dalish elf Velanna being one.

The seneschal rolled his eyes, ushering for them to move towards shelter. The rain began to drop faster than before, thunder roaring above them. They moved through the muddied streets of the keep. Merchants ran through the rain, covering their merchandise, while soldiers stood on the ramparts, eyes gazing over the horizon.

Inside, they moved through the great hall. The hearth roared at the center of the room, the dwarf melting in the sweltering heat above ground. The wood floors creaked under the weight of their combined armors. The banners that once hung the Howe family insignia now were the familiar warden blue and red Ferelden decorum. Moving through the Great Hall, they stepped aside into one of the small officers joined to the large congregational room.

Garevel moved around the large desk, sitting into the plush seat. "Things are getting worse," he stated bluntly, his elbow resting on the desk. "This morning I found the Warden-Commander's office propped open, and today I received an ordinance from the Orlesian Warden-Commander stating that we are concealing the whereabouts of Warden Alistair and Warden Ashiva deliberately. They plan to revoke the Ferelden order and siege Vigil's Keep."

The warden dwarf sat on the bench across from Garevel. "Those Orlesian pissboys need to get their heads out of their arses," he grunted

"It matters not what the Warden-Commander would want now," Garevel said, sitting rigidly. "These threats are no longer just a concern for wardens but for the Crown. I'm sending word to Teyrn Cousland and Queen Anora. They must know that we may be besieged."

"Hang on to your beard, boy. We can't get ahead of ourselves," the dwarf stepped in, raising a hand. "You said that the Warden-Commander's office was propped open?"

"I assumed you opened it, that is until this letter came to my door step."

Lowering his eyes, his mind wandered. Ashiva's office had been locked since she had left on her quest nearly a year ago. Under no circumstances was anyone to step foot in the room without Garevel or Oghren's permission. The dwarf shook his head, swearing aloud. "The damn nug-humper found the key, but how?"

"It wasn't a key. I've kept my keys close since the first time t damn pickpocketing began," the Seneschal replied, dangling his keys to make his point. "The lock was picked. Nearly smashed into pieces. Damn nonreparable. Whoever did it was not familiar lock picking."

"So we can add picking locks to the description of the nug-humper," Oghren mused. For weeks, things had begun to go missing. First, it had been the Seneschal's keys to the pantry. Then the merchants began to complain that herbal and weaponry merchandise had vanished from their inventories. "The gnawing thief will be caught, and when they are, I'll split them in half with a sodding blunt axe. Any idea of what they might've taken."

The man shook his head. "Nothing right now. I don't even really know what was kept in there that no one could see. I thought perhaps you knew."

The dwarf knitted his brows, scratching at his beard. "I'll check the office later. We need to find this damn perpetrator fast."

Sighing, Garevel slumped in his seat. "Despite how much I agree with your plan, it still doesn't solve the most pressing matter at hand," he remorse, waving the document in his hand. "Revoking Vigil's Keep and Amaranthine to the Orlesian Wardens is invoking war."

"All because they believe we are concealing information," Oghren snorted. "Let them come. Those pansies have nothing on Oghren."

The human glared, slamming his fist on the desk. "I don't think you understand the circumstances we are under. All of our Senior Wardens were relocated four months ago. The Silverite Order, although impressive in their skills, do not have the numbers to take on an army of Grey Wardens. Our only option is to request aid from Highever and Denerim."

A soft knocking at the door startled them. Short auburn hair peeked into the doorway. "Pardon me Sers...I'm Mistress Ana Argent. I was sent to replace Mistress Woolsey."

"Ahh, Mistress Argent, come in," Garevel sighed, allowing the woman to step into his office.

The woman was tall, auburn hair cropped short around her face. The accountant wore the corset dresses popular in Orlais, the bottom flaring slightly out to concealing her feet. She bowed lowly. "Pardon my intrusion ser, I heard your conversation from the Great Hall, and thought this matter was something that concerned me as well."

"You came from Weisshaupt," Oghren queried, checking out the human warden. Although dressed in the finery known to Orlais, he glimpsed the calluses on her hands from hours practicing the bow. Her eyes surveyed the office, as if she were familiar with seeking out intelligence and unusual escape route. A bard then, he mused, tilting his head.

"Well, yes and no," Mistress Argent answered, twisting her hands in front of her. "My orders came from Weisshaupt, but I am from the order in Jader."

"We were discussing a very small manner, Mistress Argent," Garevel said, his eyes focused passed the woman. "You need not be concerned."

The woman closed the door, her hands visibly shaking. Oghren squinted his eyes. He knew very little archers with jittery hands. She looked down at the floor boards, chewing at her lip aggressively. "I never really thought war of any kind was a small manner, but perhaps I am foreign to Ferelden customs."

The warden dwarf eyed the Seneschal warily. They had little evidence relating to the impetrator in the keep. From the little he knew and observed, this warden could easily be the spy sent from Orlais. Neither of them knew who could be trusted with sensitive information related to the two Warden veterans of the Fifth Blight. War however, even after a decade after the blight aftermath was something neither wanted (despite his love for a battle). The grey warden ranks were still small compared to the immense numbers in Weisshaupt or even Orlais.

The Amaranthine man groaned, rubbing the back of his head. "Of all the infernal-," he hissed as he opened the glass container of elfroot. Tension headaches had always been something the Seneschal endured. "I assume you are aware of the tensions Ferelden has with Orlais."

The lady pursed her lips, sitting on the far end of the bench, away from the dwarf. "Only that the tensions originate from the Orlesian invasion."

"Well, despite our neutrality in politics, those tensions have also developed between the Warden fractures. Before Warden Surana became the Warden-Commander, it was planned that an Orlesian would take over Amaranthine. Queen Anora appointed Warden Surana was Warden-Commander without the consent of the First Warden. The citizens of Amaranthine would not take kindly to an Orlesian Warden ruling over them," Garevel retold the tale, standing to face the large map of Amaranthine behind his desk. "Needless to say, this made selective groups very angry."

Oghren grunted. "That's putting it mildly."

"The Ferelden Wardens have been under close watch between the landsmeet and the Weishauppt since it had been reestablished. Many believe an elven mage is not suitable to be the Commander of the Grey nor any other title she possess, but they will not argue with the Queen's decision," the steward added tiredly. "It was only a matter of time before they constructed their plot to take over. Fortunate for them, it only took Alistair's quarrel with Warden-Commander Clorel and Warden Ashiva's desertion."

"Holy Andraste," Mistress Argent exhaled, pacing the small office space. "All this for two wardens. Do we possibly know where they might be. If we could forfeit-"

"Absolutely not," Oghren growled, standing upright. "They can kiss my arse before I tell them anything."

"So you do know where they are, the wardens they speak of," the Orlesian questioned, her eyes searching for clues.

The dwarf could feel his fingers twitch, his body humming for the need to raise his axe and fight. The woman had too many questions, wanting to know too much. It made him suspicious. He clenched his jaw, turning his head away from the interrogator.

Garevel sighed. "No, Mistress Argent," he answered. "The two went their separate ways nearly a year ago, and we have received no word from them."

The woman deflated, shoulders slumping. "I see," she whispered. "If there is anything that I can assist with this manner or any other, you will let me know Seneschal."

As the footsteps soften, Oghren raised his head, chuckling. "Good on ya, boss. I didn't think you had it in ya."

"Had what in me?"

"Surely you know," Oghren goaded. At the insistent stare, the dwarf groaned. "Of course you don't...while on my tour through Amaranthine, I found something."

He had stumbled across it during his patrols in Amaranthine. It was simple, a single document on the chantry board, one of their early communication systems. The black bird seal had caught his eye, reminding him of the nights at camp that Leliana would sing, her lyre in her lap. Warden Surana had loved the sound of the instrument and the singing. She would close her eyes, face relaxed. It would be the most relaxed he ever saw the elven mage to be.

"_Leliana, you're like a bird when you sing,_" the mage sighed one night. It was only a few nights later that he noticed the bird etched into the lyre, black like the obsidian stones the wardens had collected the day before.

He had torn the parchment from the board, reading the contents carefully. The words were curved and twisted, delicately written with precision only the former bard could execute. It had been what he had expected; Alistair had been charged with treason against the wardens and was being hunted. After months with no communication and the constant threats Orlais placed on Vigil's Keep, Oghren assumed the worst. Lucky for the kid, Alistair had found help in places the wardens wouldn't be able to touch him.

Oghren leaned against the desk, lowering his voice. "The pike twirler is alive. He's with an old friend."

* * *

_**The Warden**_

The Frostback Mountains were magnificent to observe throughout the day. In the morning, the sun reflected off them, the snow glistening. In the day, storms would settle on the peaks, leaving more snow on the peaks. Then in the evening, the sun fell behind them, the grey and white landscape contrasting with reds and purples in the sky. If Alistair were an artist, he would sit in the battlements for weeks, painting the different phases. He knew his friend would have enjoyed this spectacle.

"Ash," he whispered, resting his head on the cold wall. The warden regretted his decision. He should've tried harder to convince her. They could have searched for a cure together. He could have kept her from this mess with the wardens. If push came to shove, at least they could have fallen together. Now though, he was left to figure out what happened next.

Alistair remembered many years ago his confessing his dislike of making hard decisions. During the Blight, he had left it to Ashiva. She didn't complain, taking on the leadership with grace. She led their misfit group to victory, uniting Ferelden and defeating Urthemiel, the archdemon of the Fifth Blight. Although they were all heros, she respectively held the title as the Hero of Ferelden. Since those days though, she had pushed more responsibility out of him, recruiting men around Thedas, and leading expeditions into the Deep Roads to find answers. Without him knowing, he had soon grown into the leader he once thought he couldn't be. Men looked up to him.

When he mention this to his elven friend she had only smiled, a smile he only thought for him, resting the pen on her desk. _"Alistair, you've always been a leader of great potential. You just had to find it for yourself," _she said softly, eyes twinkling in the candlelight. "_Duncan would be proud of he man you have__ become, as am I._"

He didn't feel proud of himself though. After finding evidence of the Warden corruption he had ran, dodging them at every turn. He had hid on the coastlines of Ferelden, and had sought help from the only person he could think of, Hawke.

He had meet Garrett Hawke in Kirkwall during the Qunari revolted in the city. It had been a short introduction, but the two became familiar as time went on. Alistair remembered the day Hawke stepped into Vigil's Keep, the red paint across his nose making him obvious to anyone that knew the stories.

_Ashiva raised her eyebrows, startled by the warrior that parade into her base. "It seems we are now taking in refugees," she mused, her eyes following his every step._

_Alistair looked past the many steps to the Great Hall, choking on his water when he spotted what the mage mentioned. "What is he doing here?"_

_She shrugged, checking her left hip. Spellweaver vibrating with just the brush of her finger tips. He could feel the hair at the back of his neck stand on in. Closing his fingers tightly into a fist, he fought his natural instinct to cleanse the air around him. If the magic the sword possessed did that to him as he stood near her, how could she bear to wield it?_

_Hawke was nearly halfway up the stairs when archers came out of the shadows, arrows pointed at him. He waved his hands, indicating that he was unarmed. "I know I am a wanted man, but I have come to seek guidance in a matter I'd rather not mention to all of Thedas."_

_Chewing on her lip, Ashiva looked puzzled. The elf had become distant and distracted since she had returned from Kirkwall nearly a year ago. The things she witnessed there, followed by the tragic news that a Grey Warden, Anders, had destroyed the Chantry and started the mage and templar revolutions, she had slowly drifted into herself. She disappeared often, seeking ancient documents from various Circles of Magi. If she remained in the keep, Alistair often found her studying maps throughout the night. The map on the wall was marked with various locations of ancient thaigs and elven ruins throughout Thedas. Her obsession had started nearly two and a half years after the blight when she had found Morrigan. The witch had left her something before she had vanished again. Why Ashiva had left the apostate go was unclear to him. He knew they were close during the blight...but after, he remembered her haunted eyes as she pleaded with him._

"_Please Ali, I can't watch you die," she had whispered, as if she had already been broken and defeated. "I can't imagine a world without you...do this for me. For us."_

_He had completed the ritual for __**them**__. Yet, in the end, he could never forgive her or himself for taking this road. Although nothing had happened that night, he feared what would happen years from now. Would peace continue or dissolve into hopelessness because of their choices?_

_Jarred from his brooding thoughts, Alistair rested his hand on Ashiva's right hand now on the pommel of her sword. "I think we should hear him out, Warden-Commander."_

_Narrowing her eyes, she raised her hand to disarm the Wardens surrounding the Champion of Kirkwall. Hawke grinned, making his way up the stairs until he stood in front of them. The petite elf looked up at the warrior in distrust. "You want to talk? Lets go to my office."_

It was then that Garrett Hawke and he had become closer. The Champion had told his tale, concerning Red Lyrium and what it had done to the Knight-Commander. Ashiva had not been surprised, having already heard the story before in her travels, but the concern was apparent in the way she twisted her hands and paced the small space.

They had aided Hawke in his search; Alistair had sought out Dagna, an extraordinary Dwarf with interest in the Arcane. Ashiva left to seek assistance from Avernus in Soldier's Keep, one of their secrets they had kept from the First Warden. It wasn't until she had returned that he noticed lightness to her steps and brightness in her eyes that he hadn't seen in awhile.

_Alistair knocked on the door twice before he stepped into her private quarters. The small hearth was burning brightly, flickering with the mage's excitement. Her smile was broad as she wrote frantically on the parchment._

"_I see you are writing to our favorite templar. You should ask him to send some cheese from Kirkwall. I hear that it is full of flavors like mistrust and pride," he replied, sitting on the bench at the foot of the bed._

_The elven woman blushed at the mention of the templar, stepping away from the small desk and sitting next to the warden on the bench, a scroll in her hand. Her hair was loose behind her back, wearing only a simple gown for bed. "I found something when I was with Avernus," she said, handing the ancient script to him._

_The warrior unraveled the document, reading the note carefully. He read it a second and third time before he looked at her in bewilderment. "Is it possible?"_

"_Morrigan helped us both survive the Fifth Blight. I wouldn't have thought anything of it until I remember seeing her in the Dragonbone Waste. She gave me part of the answer...and I found the other in Soldier's Keep," she explained. "I think it is possible that there is a cure."_

_Alistair analyzed the woman next to him. The Calling was something they had both feared, and had promised each other to not let the other go alone when the time came. It had been almost ten years since they became Grey Wardens. They were nearly halfway through their lives, she a mere twenty-eight and he thirty years. During the Blight, she had accepted the fate, but now, he noticed how restless she had become. She was a respectable woman now, Arlessa to Amaranthine, Warden-Commander of Ferelden and the newly appointed Arcane Specialist for Queen Anora (since the blighted woman had to keep up with Orlais)._

_Although she never mentioned it with him, he also knew of her affections for Knight-Commander Cullen in Kirkwall. They had grown closer over the years. She once every two months would travel to the city-state on "business." He allowed her the little fib, only to keep his own heart from betraying his unacquainted affections for her. Her heart had been won over by the templar that had rejected her in the Circle of Magi. Alistair hated himself all the more, knowing at one time very long ago, he had her love and devotion and had thrown it away, because of her little request to keep them both alive._

"_That's great news. I also have some things to go over with you," commented Alistair, scratching his nose. "Five more wardens left our ranks this week from the Calling."_

_Her happiness faded into dejection. He hated seeing it. "I see," she breathed, rubbing the creases out of her gown. "That would be ten this month. How young were they?"_

"_Three years. They aren't the only ones hearing it though. I have heard murmurs in the practice areas of the men hearing singing," he added. "I have also begun to hear it."_

_Eyes widen, she grabbed both of his hands in hers. "No, it's too soon."_

"_I wouldn't keep you to your promise Ash," Alistair lowered his voice, intimately resting his hand on her cheek. "You have so much to live for."_

_Ashiva chewed her lower lip in silence, eyebrows lowered in deep thought. He lowered his hand with a sigh, watching the flames settle into embers, crackling in the quiet room. "Honestly, I don't think this is real. As you mentioned, it is too soon. It can't be a coincidence that many recruits and young wardens are falling on their swords in the deep roads, because of the song. I think something else is happening."_

_She nodded her head, agreeing with him. "This is too important to ignore. I will have Oghren keep account of the men while I'm gone."_

_It was Alistair's turn to gape at her. "While you're gone?"_

_She looked sheepishly at him. "After finding this information, I booked voyage to Kirkwall. Although this news unsettles me, it only reminds me of how important it is to find the cure for our short lives. There must be a way for us to continue our duties without so much sacrifice," she answered, eyes burning in resolve. "Nathaniel and I leave tomorrow."_

"_Absolutely not. I'm coming with you," he raised his voice. "The last time you went somewhere with Nathaniel, you were nearly broken and reclusive for months. You didn't eat nor sleep. I had to beg Cera to create a sleeping draught to force you to rest."_

_The elven mage frowned, disagreement plainly written in her expression. "I've already made my decision. Nathaniel and I will be leaving tomorrow for Kirkwall," she declared stubbornly. "Alistair, since you have suspicion that the wardens disappearing is a false, I want you to look into it. Find out what is happening to my wardens and I shall seek out the cure we had hoped to find. I will leave Vigil's Keep in Oghren and Seneschal Garevel's hands. Hopefully they won't destroy the place while we're gone."_

It had been eleven months and twenty-six days since that conversation. They had written each other little, mostly in code to keep curious eyes at bay. It had been three months since he left the Orlesian Wardens, and the last of their conversations ceased. He hadn't thought much of it, not until he arrived in Skyhold, Cullen breathing down his neck.

_And now she's gone,_ He thought bitterly, glaring at the mountains. He slammed his fist against the railing.

"No matter how much you hit the wall, it isn't going to solve our problems."

Alistair tilted his head to the side, rolling his eyes as the warden archer descend the stairs behind him. The former nobleman stood slightly hunched over, crossing his arms across his chest. His left eye remained bruised, but his hair was finally groomed and pulled back from his face in its traditional braid. He wore a loose fitting white shirt and dark trousers tucked into leather boots. The armor remained to be a problem for the rogue, too tight around the injured ribs.

"Nathaniel, so nice of you to join the living again."

The archer raised a brow, squatting casually against the lumber. "Brooding in a far corner of this Maker forsaken fortress is not going to help us find Warden Surana nor solve the warden dilemma."

The rogue knew already about the Orlesian Wardens. He probably had heard something when he had been a prisoner. Alistair's lip twisted, relieved he wouldn't have to explain everything from the beginning again. Retelling the tale four times was already more than enough.

"If you think your witty remarks are going to phase me, you need to reconsider," Alistair said. "Everything is just falling apart around us. While I'm use to that, I'm not use to the problem being we. The Grey Wardens are throwing everything away for what, fear?"

Sighing, Nathaniel looked out at the view around them. "True, but that doesn't mean we can't stop fighting. In War…"

"Victory," Alistair joined. "In peace, vigilance. In death, sacrifice."

"We will find the Warden-Commander, stop this Corypheus and restore order to the Grey Wardens," Nathaniel assured, turning away from him. "But the only way we can is if we take action now. The longer we delay, the more time this magister's plans become palpable."

The nobleman grimaced getting up from his makeshift chair, his hawk like eyes scanning the peaceful garden setting. Men and women sat on the stone benches, discussing the latest news in Orlais and Ferelden while the chantry initiates walked deliberately through the gardens. If Alistair concentrated hard enough, he could hear the Mother Giselle teaching the chant of light to the children that lived in the village outside the elven fortress.

"What brought you here to the Inquistion? Last Ashiva and I had heard, you were convening with Warden Clarel," Nathaniel asked, his eyes continuing to scan the crowd.

Sighing, the swordsman shook his head. "I was…had until Warden-Commander Clarel proposed blood magic and such to prevent further the blights before all the Grey Wardens died."

"And let me guess…you protested loudly and ended up arrested to be used later in their rituals," the archer insinuated.

"Something like that," replied the warden mildly, shifting on his feet. "My blood would have probably been another stain on their stone floors if Warden Hawke and her friend hadn't shown up to get me out."

The archer stiffened, his dark eyes narrowing on him. "Warden Hawke? Bethany was there?"

Alistair nodded, crossing his arms across his chest. "She was accompanying another Warden from Jader. We escaped, barely and went separate ways. Before she left, she gave me directions to a cave in Crestwood. Clarel sent guards and…well, here I am," he explained briefly. "And what about you? How did you end up in the Tevinter Ritual tower in the Western Approach?"

"We were in Kal-Sharok when Ashiva got the news about Haven," Nathaniel divulged, leaning against the stone ramparts. "Knowing that the Templar was here, we traveled to Montfort. There we heard more grievous news. The Orlesian Wardens deserting their post in Montsimmard and traveling to the Western Approach. Blood magic."

Nathaniel lowered his head, shoulders slumping. "She tried to get to Vigil's Keep. Hearing nothing, we trekked through the Nahashin Marshes and finally the Western Approach. Unfortunately for us, we had been followed and were ambushed in our camp and taken to Adamant Fortress. Ashiva tried to reason with Warden Clarel, but the mage wouldn't hear it."

"Ashiva was with you," Alistair choked.

Nathaniel looked up, his eyes tormented. "I don't know," he whispered, dismayed. "The damn Tevinter advisor had her taken somewhere. She wouldn't cooperate with the ritual when they insisted she killed me. They threw me in a cell, hoping to use me in their blood rituals soon."

"Damn it," the warden swore, slamming his fist on the stone. Pain throbbed in the hand, but it didn't matter. "That brings us back to square one."

Nathaniel opened his mouth, but quickly shut it, his head tilting his head towards the stairs. Alistair turned to look as well, hearing the shouts. A man rushed to them, the Inquisition logo painted on the leather armor. He pressed his fist to his chest, saluting before rambling his orders.

"Warden Alistair, the Inquisitor has requested your presence in the war room."

* * *

_**The Inquisitor**_

"Warden Alistair will be joining us," Evelyn said, leaning against the large wooden table. "I think his knowledge of the Grey Wardens would best benefit us in preparing our strategy for Adamant Keep."

Josephine wrote on her pad diligently. "Of course, Inquisitor," she answered, handing the parchment to the Herald. "I found some able-bodied workmen to mount the dragon head. It's rather...vulgar for my tastes, but the nobles have found it to be endlessly entertaining."

Evelyn smiled. "I hope you didn't put it in my bedroom Josie. I don't really want to remember that fight in the Hinterlands. My back still hurts just thinking of it."

The ambassador laughed quietly. "Not this time, your grace. Also, Orzammar pledged themselves to our cause. Lord Harrowmont has sent some of his most formidable warriors from the Legion of the Dead and is willing to offer his wealth."

"How generous," Leliana declared, moving to stand next to Josephine. "I am surprised he even noticed that something was happening on the surface. He was always so focused on traditions."

"And what goodies do you have for me today, spymaster," Evelyn asked, slidding her palms together.

The red-head pointed to the Ferelden side of the map near the bannorn. "We located the missing Seekers. We heard rumors of Bann Loren, who had not been heard from for months. I sent agents to investigate Caer Oswin, but they went silent. I believe it is connected somehow and the missing Seekers will be found there."

"Have you told Cassandra?"

"Yes, Inquisitor" Leliana answer as the door opened behind them.

The Inquisitor was startled to see the Commander late. He looked exhausted, eyes heavy and face unshaven. Although his armor was pristine and he walked in the hall as he normally did, she noticed his hands shaking and the perspiration on his forehead. "Lady Trevelyan, I'm sorry for my tardiness."

Evelyn smiled at the formal title. "Oh Ser Cullen, you're only fashionably late. We're still waiting for another before we get too much into business."

Cullen paused in his task of neatly stacking his paperwork looking up at her. "Another?"

The Inquisitor picked at her nails lazily. "Warden Alistair is a formidable warrior that knows strategy and tactics. He will be assisting us in strategizing our attack on Adamant Fortress."

"I...see," the Commander slowly stated. He nearly managed to hide his displeasure at the mention of the warden, as he handed the report to her. "We manage to clear the road near Fallow Mire. The soldiers are grateful for being spared to trek across the Frostbacks. I also have a request for patrols near the Sutherlands."

Taking the document, Evelyn read the neatly written report. She looked over the map, the markers placed sporadically around the large oak table. "Cullen, let the boy have some control on this. We'll assist them, as long as they repay us in gold."

Cullen nodded, jotting a quick note on the report.

The room grew quiet after that, the herald reading each document conscientiously. Every corner of Thedas dissected every decision she made. How a Templar initiate one day became the Inquisitor and held the lives of thousands in her hands was beyond her rationale. Reports were passed to one another, small chat over various matters followed in the room.

Leliana looked up from the map, concern in her voice. "How are you feeling?"

"A headache, nothing more," Cullen answered quickly, moving one of the targets on the map.

Evelyn had been aware of Cullen's decision to cease taking lyrium. While she admired the Commander for this decision, she still feared for his safety. She noticed how he unconsciously would rub his head in the meetings. He concealed his shaking hands by holding the pommel of his sword while his men trained in the courtyard. Working with Adan, they had created a recipe that relieved some of the lyrium withdrawal symptoms. Because of her travels through Orlais, Skyhold was filled with dried embrium, crystal grace, elf root and spindleweed to last them many months.

Hearing the door creek open, Evelyn peeked up from her reading, her lips twitching into a small smile. Alistair stepped into the room hesitantly, closing the door behind him. "Inquisitor, you sent for me."

"Good, we're all here," Evelyn clapped her hands together. She encouraged the warden to stand next to her.

The Fifth Blight had begun when she was only ten. Listening to the stories of the Hero of Ferelden, uniting Ferelden and defeating the archdemon, she had become fascinated with the Grey Wardens. On one of her many family trips, they had made their way to Denerim for Feast Day. She remembered standing in awe, looking at the infamous Fort Drakon, towering overhead, and shadows casted in the evening light. She wanted to evade her family and investigate the towering building to see the signs of the battle. She never expected to meet anyone that fought in the Battle of Denerim, much less one of the only two Grey Wardens that had been there. But here she was now, the Herald of Andraste, socializing with Leliana, a veteran and comrade of the Grey Wardens and _the _Alistair Theirin. She nearly grew faint at the thought.

Now wasn't the time though to demand stories from those present for the events from ten years ago. There were bigger problems to attend to. Evelyn cleared her throat. "I believe you are acquainted with our spymaster Leliana and Commander Cullen," she said, coyly. "This lovely lady here is the Inquisition Ambassador, Josephine Montilyet."

"A pleasure Warden Alistair. We are grateful to have an ally like yourself," the ambassador said, her voice smooth and controlled.

"Thank you, Ambassador," Alistair replied. "Adamant Fortress was built during the Second Blight in the Abysal Rift. It is stable and will take much to get through the stone gates, but luckily it is an older building and can be taken down with the right equipment."

"Perhaps if we had trebuchet," Josephine mused out loud.

"They were all destroyed at Haven," Cullen interrupted.

Humming, the Inquisitor scratched at her head. "I feared you would say that, Commander. Josephine, is it possible we could borrow one…or ten?"

"I have made some inquiries into the Imperial Court, but our resources are still limited," the Antivan woman relayed the news. "The political situation in the Empire is dangerously unstable and it is complicating matters."

The Commander snorted. "Everything in the Empire complicates matters," he smirked. "It's the Orlesian National Pastime."

"Turn your nose up at the Grand Game if you like, Commaner, but we play for the highest stakes, and to the death," Lelianna warned.

Josephine nodded. "The court's disapproval can be as great a threat as the Venatori. We must be vigilant, to avert disaster."

"Don't worry, Josephine. We'll protect the Empress, not matter what," Evelyn reassured.

The advisor leaned against the table, marking on her tablet. "I pray you're right," she said softly. "If you're vision of the future comes to pass…the death of the Empress hearlds the destruction of everything."

"You had visions of Empress Celene's death," Alistair grimaced, swearing under his breath. "Orlais and the Wardens…it seems Corypheus is busy."

"Celene is holding peace talks under the aupices of a Grand Masquerade. Every power in Orlais will be there," the Ambassador explained. "It's the perfect place for an assassin to hide."

"Does Celene know about the threats against her," Evelyn asked, stretching her neck side to side. "Can we send word?"

"I've sent messages to the Empress, but it's impossible to know if she's received them," Josephine sighed. "We don't have enough sway in the court to arrange an invitation. A few more alliances…"

"Or soldiers," Cullen interjected.

"In order to acquire trebuchets and protect the Empress, we need a greater presence in Orlais, and soon." Josephine advised. "In the meantime, I received a missive from Edouard Desjardins from Emprise Du Lion. He speaks of red crystals growing in the fields and helmeted men around the village quarry. Sahrnia is known throughout Orlais for its quarry. It produces the finest azure granite in the South. Protecting Sahrnia would be a good step towards attaining Orlesian support."

"My agents also found evidence leading to Emprise du Lion," Leliana added.

The Commander tensed, eyes staring at the spymaster hard. "Evidence?"

"Here, you read it."

Cullen took the document carefully, trying to keep his hands from shaking so much as he read aloud the letter. "Benedict, Pull up stakes. All plans for the "Mine" in the Western Approach are off. The Inquisition's on the move and headed your way. Dump all the bodies and relocate to Emprise du Lion. Take the Warden with you. Corypheus has plans."

"Warden," Alistair whispered the word in question, face pale. "Could it be?"

"Please tell me there was something else," Cullen demanded.

Evelyn looked between the two men. Warden Alistair looked like he would collapse, shock written on his face. Commander Cullen looked as if he was ready to strangle the spymaster, jaw clenched, fist tight around the mangled parchment. She had only seen him once like this; throwing the lyrium across the room, fist punching the solid bookcase. Whoever this warden was, it must have been someone important. "What warden? We found Nathaniel in the Western Approach. There is another warden you know?"

"Ashiva Surana," Alistair named. "Nathaniel was traveling with her before they were captured. I had hoped I would have found her with him, but apparently they decided otherwise. She alone can easily influence the Grey Wardens left. I didn't know if it was something I should've informed you about, Inquisitor."

"I feel I'm missing something," the Inquisitor admitted, eyes downcast. "Is this Ashiva someone I should know."

"Only the most well known warden in all of Thedas. Warden-Commander Surana of Ferelden and Hero of Fifth Blight in Ferelden," Leliana informed lightly, a small smile on her lips. "If Nathaniel's information is correct and he had only been in the Western Approach, there is still a chance the she is alive."

"The Hero of Ferelden," Evelyn repeated in awe. This sounded more like one of Varric's cheesy adventure tales. The air felt heavier to breath in the enormous room. Tension was rising between two advisors; one chatting with Alistair while the other remained silent, brooding. "So, you're thinking that the Hero of Ferelden was taken to Emprise du Lion by the Red Templars."

"It makes sense," Josephine stated. "The Hero would be a strong influence on the Wardens. If she didn't agree with something, it would only make sense to remove her. But why would the Red Templars have her, I wonder."

The auburn haired woman turned at hearing the commander mutter under his breath incoherently. Was he swearing? "Commander Cullen, are you well."

"No...I mean yes," Cullen stuttered, before sighing. "I'm just alarmed by these current events. Whatever is happening it must be stopped soon. I'll send troops there immediately to clear a path. They should be there in two days."

"Cullen," Leliana lowered her voice, resting her hand on the man's broad shoulder. "We'll find her."

"Maker, I hope so."

Chewing on her lip, Lady Trevelyan studied the two. She rarely saw this side of the Spymaster. Was this how she was when she was a young bard? Cullen's shoulders were hunched, head lowered as if he was a broken man. "I know you mentioned the Circle before, Cullen and how she was one of your charges."

"She isn't just a charge your worship," Cullen muttered.

Alistair cleared his throat. "If you are to go to Emprise du Lion, Inquisitor, I would like to join you. Ashiva is a friend of mine, and I will not be able to rest until I know she is safe."

Evelyn smiled. "Good. If the Red Templars have a stake on this region as is referred in this letter, it would be best to have veterans fighting at my side."

"And I as well."

Shocked, blue eyes turned to gaze at the amber orbs. "Commander?"

His laughter did not ease her. It was harsh and bitter, like the blizzard she had nearly froze in nearly a month ago. She felt the chill run down her spine, her hands numb and lifeless. Cullen looked at her, mouth set in a firm frown. "You don't understand," he said exasperated, rubbing his forehead slowly. "The Ferelden Warden-Commander, The Hero of the Fifth Blight, Champion of Redcliffe, the slayer of the archdemon Urthemiel, Senior Enchanter of Kinloch Hold, Arlessa of Amaranthine, Chancellor of Ferelden, Ashiva Surana...even with all those titles, she has one that isn't known by many. She is my wife."

* * *

**A/N:** I tried to keep much of the conversations and reports in the war room similar with small twist since advisors are summarizing the events to the Inquisitor. I also took liberties in the note found in the Forgotten Mine in the Western Approach. No it doesn't mention the warden in the game, but I have to make it work for where the plot is going.


	4. Chapter 4

**May the Maker Watch Over You **

**Chapter 4**

**A/N: **Thank you to **ErsbethShadowSong**, **Kyla Baines**, **writingNOOB**, **Amethyst-Guardian-Lycure**, **LurkingRoseDust** and **indy's girl** for the favorites, story alerts, and comments! They make my day every time they show up on my email. Also, please take some time to leave a review after reading. I love to hear what people think as they read this. Also, if anyone has suggestions, I'm always willing to listen and see if it will work with what I have in mind.

This chapter was fun to write. I tried to have some lighter moments in this chapter since the previous chapters have been very dark. Enjoy!

**Inspiration: **Dragon Age II Legacy, Dragon Age: Awakening, Ser-Prace-A-Lot, Kasparov's Immortal Chess Game, What We Become by Crisium (another wonderful Cullen/mage story here on fanfiction), Dragon Age Inquisition Champions of the Just.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything but a copy of the Dragon Age: Inquisition game. All rights belong to Bioware.

* * *

_They were had made their way through into the Circle of Magi before Cullen grabbed the petite mage and dragged her into the nearest vacant room, a cramped Tranquil closet for runes and herbs. He pressed her against the door, looming over her._

"_What are you doing here Ashiva," he interrogated, keeping her trapped between the door and him._

_She had to look up to him, her lips turned up into a smirk. "You were there, Cullen. I'm doing my duty as a Grey Warden. I didn't realize that was a crime here in Kirkwall. I will be sure to let the First Warden know so that I won't have to do these crappy jobs. I always hated being on a boat."_

"_No, I mean…" the templar stuttered, his words leaving him. "You didn't write. You have always informed me when you were arriving."_

"_There wasn't time to write," Ashiva replied, resting her arm on his forearm. "I received the news only before we left. I couldn't dally around when there is something like this hanging over our heads."_

_Cullen looked at her carefully. The elf looked tired, ready to collapse at any moment. A bruise was forming on her small face, a small cut where the armor had cut through her skin when the templar at hit her across the face. Anger flared up in him, not resisting as he moved his gloved hand to brush the discolored skin. "I'll find who did this to you. They had no reason to attack you."  
_

_Ashiva glared. "Don't bother, Cullen. I've had worse happen to me," she scoffed. "I'm just an elven mage to them. Nothing more. Especially not an equal that risked her life so that they could beat another mage."_

"_That's unfair-"_

"_It's the truth," she interrupted with a hiss._

_Sighing, Cullen released her from his grip, missing her warmth as he pulled away. He had stumbled into Meredith's office just in time. Although the meeting had went vastly long, they had finally came to agreement. Ashiva and the other Grey Warden mages would stay in the Circle until they left Kirkwall to venture into the Vinmark Mountains. Although satisfied with those terms, Meredith had insisted the Wardens would be escorted outside of Kirkwall by a few selected Templars. Ashiva disagreed, but finally gave up the battle with a frown._

_Needless to say, Cullen had volunteered to escort the Wardens. It would be nice to get fresh air after being cooped up in the city for months. He also thought it would be nice to finally have time to speak to the woman that stood before him for an extended amount of time. They had only communicated through short conversations in a tavern and briefer missives, her writing disguised as a new recruit distantly related to him._

_Although it was often the mages that were the first to state the importance of secrecy in the Circle, Templars were no better. Whatever their relationship, it was forbidden. Although Ashiva was no longer in the Circle, he feared what the repercussions would be if it were known of their continued relationship. _

"_I'll be personally picking the men that will be going with us to the Vinmark Mountains. This will not happen again, not while I am watching," he vowed._

_He was gifted with a small smile, gratitude reflected in her eyes. "I believe you," she whispered. He heard the latch on the door. "I'll step out first. I was wanting to investigate the library here...see if there are any books I haven't read through."_

_Cullen grinned. "You were always reading…"_

_Ashiva's smile seemed sad, her eyes glancing at the elfroot in the corner. He forgotten. Kinloch Hall was a topic they avoided. There were too many memories, many overshadowed by terror. Before she could escape though, he caught her in his arms, his large form pressing around her lithe frame. "Ash-"_

_He felt her arms wrap around his waist, her breath caressing his neck. He clung to the moment, only letting go when she pulled away. He saw the mask of the Warden-Commander now. She was no longer the fragile, loving mage he was accustomed to in the tower. She was fierce and powerful. This woman had stared down death, plunging the blade through the dark demon's head. He didn't know if he should admire this side of her, or be cautious of it._

"_I'll leave you to your duties, Knight-Captain," she stated, clipped and firm._

* * *

Hunched over the desk, fingers gripping tightly the edge, Cullen glared at the carved wooden box. The tools were left carefully in the red velvet compartments, pristine. His stomach churned, staring at the vigilant Andraste. Her eyes stared back at him, reserved, sad. His fingers craved to touch the figurine, the tools. His body yearned to mix the ingredients, to drink, to feel the cool liquid go down his throat.

He growled, shoving the box closed, throwing it into his desk. He made a promise to the Maker, to the Inquisition, to _her_ that he would stop. He would not go mad from the addiction. Yet, it killed him. His head pounded, muscles spasmed often. He woke in a cold sweat, trying to grab a hold of her, cling to her like his life depended on it. Delirious, he'd half expected to hear her whispered comforts, her finger tracing runes onto his back as he woke from his nightmares. Investigating the bed and finding it empty, he would sigh, roll over, and look up at the stary sky through the cracked roof.

"I didn't know you were married."

Startled from his thoughts, the commander looked up. He hadn't heard the Inquisitor open his door and walk in. She was leaning on the desk in her usual spot, arms crossed, forehead scrunched puzzled or maybe concerned. He couldn't discern which. "Inquisitor."

He admired her strength, her courage to face this darkspawn magister. The Herald wore her hair different today, a ponytail, swishing back and forth behind her head as she shook her head with a small smile on her face. "All this time, I thought you were a workaholic. You rarely took time off, rest your feet. I never saw your eyes linger on any of the barmaids, or any maidens for that matter. I was almost under the impression you enjoyed the company of men until-"

"Andraste," Cullen muttered under his breath. "I didn't think it something you would be interested in knowing. We do have higher priorities than knowing my personal relationships."

"No...its just I'm surprised," Evelyn carefully said. "From what I know of the infamous Hero is that she was a mage."

"She is," Cullen corrected.

"And you were a templar," she added, waving her hand in emphasis. "It sounds like something from one of Varric's lovesap novels Cassandra grovels over."

He chuckled, moving away from his desk. "Yes, I once was, and no, I don't think our story would fit well with Varric's writing style," he commented, leaning on the desk next to her. "Even if he didn't get the notion to write our life, Ash would probably string him up one of the flagpoles and burn his trousers."

The Inquisitor smiled slyly, peering at him from the corner of her eye. "I'll be sure to warn him," she said with mirth. Her smile faded though, her face turning to look at him, concern etched in her face. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry. We'll find her, you have my word."

Cullen didn't want promises. He wanted his wife here, now, safe and unharmed, scowling as she complained that she could take care of herself. Sighing, he pushed from the desk. "Care for a game of chess?"

"Oh, so you want to lose another round, Commander? I'm up for it."

* * *

_The trek through the mountains had been hard. The Grey Wardens pushed forward, chatting with each other lightly, as if they weren't marching to a dark prison that held something sinister. Although there had been little information, Cullen knew it had to be bad. Why else would Ashiva go herself bringing powerful mages and warriors alike. She had sent her other Wardens, those she had mentioned in many letters to him to the Deep Roads to investigate ruins. _

_During the nights, they would camp under the skies. Cullen often found the elven mage sitting alone, sharpening her blade, or just staring at the fires. Once in awhile he could feel the veil open around her, the fires dancing more than they usually did. They had conversed little, keeping the appearance of mage and templar, nearly strangers. It bothered him. Many of the nights he would dig out the delicate letters reading them. Some were full of humor, Wicked Grace in the Great Hall, pranks on the Dwarf, and celebrations in the city. Other times they held confessions and apologies for things in the past, things that continued to haunt her. After putting the letters away at night and leaving for his tent, he sometimes believed he felt her warm amber eyes watching him, unreadable and glowing in the firelight._

_Cullen halted in his tracks, blade unsheathed. He could feel the distinct magic at the back of his mind. He knew it all too well._

"_Knight-Captain," Ashiva whispered, voice raised in question. She had not drawn her weapon, but her hand remained steady on it, eyes fixed on him._

"_Templars, be on your guard," he ordered, before looking at her. "I sense blood magic nearby."_

_She looked shocked. "Now? We're nearly a four days march away from the city."_

_He didn't reply, only pushing forward, leading his men. Around the bend in the mountains and he found them, Red Iron mercenaries. Cullen didn't have much time to plan strategy when he heard the shout "We have company!" He ducked the swing of the large man's axe, swiftly cutting him down before moving to the other. _

_He felt the area purged of magic, weakening their enemies. He struck another warrior before moving on. He was caught unguarded, a dagger cutting into his arm. He grunted, parrying the second attack. He was ready to strike when the rouge was consumed by fire, screaming in agony._

_Cullen turned, catching a quick glimpse of Ashiva casting another spell, a barrier around her men, blocking a slash to her legs with her sword. The weapon blazed, fire consuming the metal. "Focus," he scolded himself, facing the battle before him. He turned, catching the enemy cutting their arm, weaving a spell with the blood spilt. Grimacing, Cullen dodged the battles around him, fighting to get to the maleficarum. Striking the mage, he smited, them, destroying their connection to the fade and magic. Swiftly, he decapitated him. _

_A shriek alerted him, his head turning. The Warden-Commander was cornered, blocking the warrior's broadsword with difficulty. Wittingly, he plunged into the battle, bashing the man in the side with his shield. Stepping in front of the mage, the templar challenged the warrior._

_The mercenary took it, swinging his sword with force. Cullen dodge, parrying the attack, scratching the man's right arm. The man growled, eyes full of hatred. The templar could feel himself weakening, exhausted from the battle. Asking for strength, he lunged forward, striking the man over and over until he found an opening. Hitting the man with his shield, dazing him, he plunged the blade into the mercenary's abdomen. _

_The Knight-Captain pulled his sword out, cringing at the blood dripping from the metal. He looked around, counting numbers. The wardens seemed to be in fine, laughing merrily, his team to the side, pulling bodies to put into a large pile to burn. Turning around, Ashiva looked shocked, staring at him._

"_Ash, are you alright," he asked, kneeling next to her. The cut along her arm looked bad, but could had been worse. Other than a few scratches and blood splatters, she looked whole._

"_Cullen, your face," she whispered, fingers trembling as they brushed his shoulder._

_He tasted blood on his tongue and felt the warmth of the igor trickle down his chin. He touched his face, curious. He felt the cut along his right upper lip. It stung as he pressed on it._

"_Stop that," she chide, closing her eyes. He felt the magic, warm, and tingly before he saw the white light glow around her hand. She leaned against the boulder with a sigh, hand still rested on his face. Her eyes were filled with gratitude when they opened again. "Thank you."_

_That night, she didn't sit alone in camp. She sat next to him, arms encircled around her legs, telling him a recent story about Ser-Prance-A-Lot one of the soldiers of the Silver Order. He couldn't remember a time when he smiled as much._

* * *

"So tell me about her," Trevelyan coerced, moving her bishop to take his.

Cullen raised an eyebrow, curious about the offensive move. "Ash? What is there to say? She's a warden, elf, mage. She's clever yet caring. She has always seemed to be able to find the good in anyone," he answers, moving his queen.

Evelyn frowned, deflated by the bishop being taken. She looked at the board curiously. "Well, you said you were married."

"It's really new to me," Cullen stated, scratching at his nose. He moved his pawn. "We were married in the spring of 9:38 in Amaranthine. Ash was a hero in the city, and thus the revered mother married us in secret. I was...still a templar at the time, but I was going to resign from my duties soon."

"So you kept it a secret, keeping you both safe from the chantry."

"I was worried for her safety, not my own," he confirmed. "She was a mage, and one with power. I heard the whispers in Kirkwall. Many admired her, but many also feared her. She was an arlessa in Ferelden and had been appointed as an arcane advisor to Queen Anora. She was trusted by the court. Some said it was by blood magic, others said she was a witch. The Chantry feared the power she wielded, how untouchable she was, and how she could influence mages to rebel."

"I'm surprised," the noblewoman confessed. "So you married, knowing that it could be leaked and caused the Seekers to search for her."

"It wasn't like it was planned. Things...happened and then there we were in the chantry, whispering vows. It was unexpected," He chuckled, taking his turn. "And then I thought it had happened. After we married, I returned to Kirkwall, restoring order to the city-state. She would visit me from time to time. She always said it was a "business" trip, but I knew otherwise. She could have easily sent her ambassador. It wasn't until the leaves began to change that I heard a pounding at my room. I was going to ignore it but the pounding continue."

Evelyn moved her queen. Cullen smiled. "I opened the door, ready to reprimand one of the recruits when I see the hooded woman. Frightened, shaking and wet. Ash was being tracked with her phylactery by the Seekers. They had caught her in the Chantry of Our Lady Redeemer, and she nearly escaped with the assistance of a Sister. She had ran, found passage on a boat and raced to Kirkwall. I feared the worst."

He took the castle with the knight. "I thought they knew. So I sent her to the only place I knew I thought was safe, Honneleath. I promised her I would meet her there. I honestly didn't think I would. I was going to make a deal, her life for mine. Let them take me to Aeonar."

"It was Leliana that came to me. She asked me questions, about Kirkwall, the Champion of Kirkwall, the Grey Warden mage, Anders. I waited for her to ask me about Ash, but she didn't say anything. Not until she stated that they needed soldiers like me. She told me if I assisted in the efforts to train men for the Inquisition, the Seekers would never know about Ashiva. I made the deal...and I was given her phylactery."

"You must have felt like a fool when you learned Leliana was a friend to the Hero of Ferelden. Why would she take her own friend in," Evelyn laughed.

"Yes, but I knew then that they couldn't look for her anymore. Without her phylactery, they had no way to track her easily. Once I was recruited by Cassandra, I found I enjoyed the work. It was honest work. I felt like I was doing something important," Cullen explained. "I still do."

"And where did she go, your wife?"

"Honestly, I don't know," he confessed. "She said it was Warden business, that whatever it was, it would give us more time. She looked like she was cornered and trying to find a way out. I didn't pry...or at least I tried not to. Ash always got defensive over the secrets Warden's kept."

The Herald's hand brushed against his over the game, blocking him from moving his pawn.

"We'll find her, Cullen. We'll find her."

* * *

The elven mage walked around the ruins of the indestructible Vigil's Keep, rain cascading down from the darkened skies. Flames flickered throughout the keep, revealing the gruesome activities that had happened in the last forty-eight hours. Soldiers dragged bodies onto the pyres, the smell of burning corpses burning her senses.

She felt like she had been walking for days, non stop. She was cold, and exhausted. She limped around on her leg, shots of pain keeping her alert every time she stepped on the injured leg. The elf clutched her ribs, struggling to breath. Even through the pain, she couldn't remember how she had become injured in such a way, nor why she stood here in the Ferelden Warden keep. Why didn't this feel real?

Making her way to the staircase to the Grand Hall and looking over the keep, she crumbled onto the steps, hoping to gain some strength to make her way up the steps. She closed her eyes, trying to remember happier times, the sun shining, sounds of children singing, laughing and playing in the grass, arguments of the latest shipment of Orlesian fashion. Anything but the horror she met with, opening her eyes.

The soldier was rigid, silver hair glowed from the torches, silver armor gleaming. His hand was extended, a fatherly smile on his face. "Commander, it would be wise for you not to sit in the rain."

Ashiva gapped at him, unsure what to say. "Varel," her voice raised in question, taking his extended hand. She trusted this man with her life. He had offered her advice on the political situation on Amaranthine and had become close to her shortly after her arrrival. The older man had kept her on her feet, his devotion and loyalty always to the her. Seeing him now, off all places, the elf became weary of her surroundings. "You're dead."

It now becoming clear looking around her. The blurred columns, the faceless people, the greenish fog around her. "This isn't real...you're not real," she whispered, her voice echoing around her. "I'm in the fade."

Varel chuckled, his voice distorting slightly. "Is this shape useful, dearest Commander? Will it let me know you?"

The elf took a step back, searching for spellweaver, a staff, dager, anything to protect her from the abomination in front of her. She had nothing. Her armor was replaced by a brown wool tunic and black trousers. She breathed in deeply, trying to organize a plan.

"Everything tells me about you," Varel continued, moving around her. People emerged from the fog, figures she recognized. She was surrounded by wardens- Nathaniel, Sigrun, and Oghren were present. Even those who had passed on stood around her-Mhairi, Velanna and Anders. Her heart wrenched from her chest.

She clenched her fist to her side, mumbling under her breath. "This isn't real. This isn't real. This isn't real."

"Ashiva," the voice was light, almost teasing. She turned, her eyes gravitating to the blade. Alistair's smile was dark, his short dagger he always carried in his left boot placed to Cullen's throat. Cullen didn't fight, only looked beyond, lifeless.

"Ali, what are doing," she hushly demanded, staring between the two men she respected beyond any others. One, a former lover, now trusted friend and comrade. And then there was Cullen, the man she admired from afar in the Circle, the man she loved beyond all else, her rock and salvation.

"So will this," Alistair stated darkly. "Watch."

Ashiva bite her lip, tasted the coppery taste of blood on her tongue. _This isn't real_, she screamed in her head. She had to stay calm, to think logically. She was in the fade. _The fade_. The mage had encountered the dark realm countless times before. Why was it so hard for her to remember this?

Composing herself, she glared at the warden impersonator. "Are you trying to tempt me or copy me?"

The demon seemed to pause, thinking carefully. It wasn't until the sickening sound of a blade sinking into skin, did Ashiva cringe. Blood poured from Cullen's throat, his body crumbling to the floor. She was becoming delirious, panic washing over her in waves. _This isn't real. This isn't real. This isn't real._

Alistair looked at her, blood shimmering on the silver blade. Eyes bright, smile peculiar sent shivers down her spine. "Are you trying to copy me," the demon shouted, voice changing, more feminine and...hers.

Alistair had vanished into the fog. Ashiva couldn't keep her eyes off her beloved, blood pooling on the stoned steps. Where was Cullen? Was he safe? She remembered leaving him in Kirkwall, trying to remain strong for him. From the letters she received, he had joined the Inquisition and had left for Haven. She prayed silently that this wasn't real. Cullen was alive, somewhere, waiting for her to return. He maybe even was stabbing a few demons, in memory of her.

The demon laughed again, dark and sinister. Stepping forward, the imposter had changed again, peaceful eyes, aged skin and white hair. Wynne. Ashiva had heard of Wynne's passing. It tore at her, a mentor from the Circle of Magi, the kind woman who had taken her in, taught her, and was even patient enough to deal with all of them during the Blight. This monster wore the body of someone dear to her. The elf's stomach twisted in disgust. "Ahh...Warden-Commander Surana," the demon sighed, face full of hunger. "Being the Hero of Ferelden will be so much more interesting."

The room shifted, making her unbalanced and unfocused. The floor was solid, her elbows scrapped from the fall. Her face scrunched in pain, fighting the urge to scream as her muscles and bones screamed for her to stop moving. _Rest, give up_, they urged. Stubbornly, she made herself look up, recognizing the rows of bookshelves, violet, red, and blue books lining them. The stained glass windows reflected the familiarity and dread of being back here again-Kinloch Hold.

"You don't realize the power you possess...how much you can take with a flick of your hand. You'll see," Wynne lectured, pacing around her, arms behind her back as if she were teaching a lesson. "When I'm done, everything you worked for, everything you care about, will be _mine_. I will _be _you."

"Do you really think I'll just let you take over," questioned Ashiva in defiance, pushing herself to her feet. "My whole life I was warned about demons like you. I was forced into the fade at eighteen to confront and fight against your kind. I will not submit. I'd rather become Tranquil than let you possess my body."

"It doesn't matter what you think, mage. The Elder One has a plan, and he promised you to _me_," Wynne replied, unwavering.

Flabbergasted, Ashiva rested against the pillar, watching her former mentor walk back and forth. "The Elder One?"

"He will be disappointed to learn that you don't remember him. He remembered you quite fondly," the mage laughed. "He is between things. Mortal once, but no longer."

"Glory is coming. And the Elder One wants you to serve him like everyone else: by dying in the right way," Wynne announced, placing her hands on Ashiva's shoulders.

Ashiva cringed, anger searing. She sneered at the abomination. "Then please, keep talking," she challenged. "I've always loved a monologue from my villain as I ripe their heart out of their chest."

Wynne looked offended, stepping back. The greyish blue eyes stared at her, as if they were burning through her. She turned away, leaving elven mage to her thoughts.

Ashiva sighed, pinching her nose. This was new. She often walked the fade, demons tempting her with fates beyond her imagination, taking the form of mice, bears and strangers, but to see those she cared for deceased walking, talking, as if it had all been a dream. It was maddening. Taking the one step at time, she nearly fell into the plush chair next to the desk she use to study at. Piles of books were stacked neatly, another laying neatly open next to her. She was tempted to look at the page, see if she recognized the text.

Her body was weakening, the stress overbearing. The elven women didn't know how long she would be able to keep fighting, not subcoming to the madness around her. She had no weapon, no armor, no protection whatsoever. Absently wrapping her hand around the bracelet she always wore, she whispered a short prayer. "O Maker, hear my cry: Guide me through the blackest nights. Steel my heart against the temptations of the wicked. Make me to rest in the warmest places."

"I am not your toy!"

Ashiva looked up, breath stifled, body tensed. The light reflected off his hair like sunlight, yellows and golds glittering from his eyes. He frowned, bringing out the wrinkles she often brushed away with her hands. He looked angry, frustrated, as if things were not going according to plan. Had she forgotten to clean her sword before laying it on the bed? She remembered doing that once and having to clean the linens for weeks, trying to get the dark blood stains off. Or maybe Dog had found one of his wool shirts. "Cullen-" she started, but halted in her apology, her declaration of love. _Wait, this isn't real. This isn't real._

"I am Envy, and I will know you," the perpetrator declared.

The fog arose around him, a dark form taking shape. Pale skin, ebony hair pulled back into a braid, amber eyes staring at her. She gasped, standing straight up, alert, aware. Ashiva stared at herself, head rested against Cullen's broad shoulder. Her doppelganger stared at her, a sad smile on her face.

"Tell me "_Love_," what you think," he growled, knife piercing clone's back. Ashiva gasped, clenching her side, yet there was no evidence of a wound. She watched her other self, crumble, fear clinging to her.

His face was scrunched in fury, leaning over her now at the table, eyes almost dark as he demanded. "Tell me what you feel!"

Ashiva's duplicate cried out, dragging herself on the stone floor, a blood trail following her. She reached out, touching the elf on her leather boot, pulling her, dragging her to her death. Shrieking, Ashiva, stumbled backwards, crying out when she felt the blade cut into her hand. She looked down, the blade covered in blood in her hands. How did she get this?

The pale elf dropped to the ground, rolling on to her back. Her skin was ashened, gasping for air, fighting to fill her lungs with precious oxygen. The amber eyes looked at her, anguished, her whisper sounding like her own. "Tell me what you see."

Ashiva wouldn't listen to this anymore. She refused to think, feel nor see anymore. She ran, not looking back at herself dying. Her vision blurred, making it hard to navigate through the tower's maze. Hearing Cullen's chuckle behind her, she felt as if a knife had slowly been twisted in her still beating heart.


	5. Chapter 5

**May the Maker Watch Over You**

**Chapter 5**

**A/N:** It's a shorter chapter before we get into the mess in Emprise du Lion. I struggled writing this one and I don't know if I am really pleased with the results in different spots. Thank you to **ErsbethShadowSong**, **Music is my Muse**, **TheFoxesWife**, **lelumi**, **Winterlight89**, **ManlyMelon**, and **Thanatos Letus** for reading, reviewing, favoriting, and following. I hope you like this newest chapter.

I do not own Dragon Age, it all belongs to Bioware.

**Inspiration: **Dragon Age Inquisition soundtrack, Dragon Age Origins banter and Kinloch Hold, Dragon Age: Inquisition banter, Dragon Age Inquisition: Champions of the Just, Celtic wedding vows.

* * *

"Our enemies have surrendered unconditionally, you grace," The hooded messenger reported, handing the document to her with without delay.

Ashiva smiled, writing her signature on the document. Everything was going according to plan. The warden keep was restored. "Yes, I'm grateful the darkspawn have finally went back where they crawled out of."

"The Warden's strength has doubled in size. Our strength rivals any kingdom in Thedas. Even Queen Anora couldn't withstand your power," he replied.

Ashiva crinkled her nose. She knew her wardens were a powerful force. They had the best armor, weapons and training in Ferelden. The elf believed it was important to remain vigilant, to be prepared when the darkspawn returned. She would not let Amaranthine, or Ferelden for that matter be destroyed again by the foul creatures. Why would she be concern that they could withstand the Queen? It would be traitorous, marking the wardens again as enemies to the throne and kingdom.

Nathaniel stepped into the office, saluting her casually. "Commander, the mages are prepared to attack Denerim on your command."

"Wait, what" she shouted, stepping away from her desk as if the furniture was on fire. "Warden mages attack Denerim? Are you insane, Nathaniel?"

The rouge blinked, not alarmed by her outburst. "You issued the order three days ago. The mages have full control of the demons as you wished."

"Demons? I would never command that," She hissed, pushing past the archer into the great hall. She rushed through the large room, charging for her adviser, Seneschal Garvel. She found him on the top of the stairs, overlooking the keep. "Garvel, what is the meaning of this? Are we attacking Denerim? What are mages doing with demons? I never authorized this."

"You gave the command, your grace. Soon Ferelden will know the power of the Grey Wardens. They will know _your_ power," Garvel answered. "The assassin was sent as well. Soon, the throne will be yours."

The elf was speechless. _The throne will be mine?_ Who sent these orders? She turned from the seneschal, rushing through the great hall again. Grabbing the stack of papers, she went through them furiously, seeking answers. Had everyone in her keep gone mad? Was this some prank? Maker, she was beginning to hope it was. Then she would have everyone on latrine duty for a month.

It was then she found it, the seal, _her_ seal-the griffon and shield- on the Crows contract. The words were clear, assassinate the queen and any who would dare beseech the throne. She was seeking the power, taking the kingdom for herself.

She dropped the paper, as if it burned her, wrapping her arms around herself. She would never kill the Queen. She couldn't deny that there was times she disagreed with the noblewoman, but she would never assassinate her. The woman had assisted her, giving the wardens a home in Amaranthine, giving them the necessary tools to rebuild Vigil's Keep after the Darkspawn attacked, gave her a name and a position unworthy of her.

Ashiva felt the chill, heard the whispered in her head. _Traitor_. _Murder_. _Maleficarum_. She shook her head, trying to get the murmurs out of her head. "This isn't real," she whispered hoarsely.

She remembered now. The doppelganger, Envy and the Elder One. The damn demon was getting to her, using the people and places closest to her to get inside her head. She wouldn't allow it. She stepped out of her office, not surprised to see the messenger, standing a few steps on the carpeted staircase, admiring the high back wooden seat. The hood was off, a reflection of herself.

"Our reach begins to match my ambition-but we will strive for more," the doppelganger announced smugly to the empty room, arms clasped around her back, eyes full of hunger and pride.

"Is imitating what you can't have your only pleasure, demon," spat the elf, grabbing the dagger she remembered she possessed from her earlier encounter, tucked into her hip.

"Accusing," the demon hissed. "Trying to find my weakness. Is that the woman you are?"

"You won't have me," Ashiva assured, preparing to strike.

She pressed forward, striking her laughing target. She only meet air, stumbling into her chair, the one she often sat in to dictate orders for the arling. Not taking any chances, Ashiva ran outside. Wardens marched through the gates, demons alongside them. The army was massive, chanting. The shouts pierced her ears.

"You are nothing," the demon whispered. "Why give the throne to Anora when you could have taken it with force? You had the power. You gained the power of blood in the Warden Keep. You should had taken it."

"I will have Ferelden fall at my feet. Ferelden will know what it means to have true power. For when I am you, the people will not forget what you do to them. They will know...you will see."

"Shut up, demon," she yelled, falling to her knees. She covered her ears, rocking herself back and forth. She could feel the darkness impending around her. Fighting for control, she murmured a silent prayer, praying for vigilance, for strength to make it through this nightmare.

* * *

Alistair groaned, covering his eyes from the sunlight glittering into the tavern. How Garrett Hawke had convinced him to play a game of Wicked Grace, he didn't know. "A moment of weakness, a way to get away from the weight of all Thedas from his shoulders," the Champion had reasoned, a knowing smiled looking over at the dwarf. He was doing great until the Qunari showed up, offering booze he couldn't resist. Something, something _Lok_. It tasted like dragon piss, burning down his throat, but he wasn't going to go down without a fight. He had plenty of Oghren's beverages and was able to walk away. Surely he could handle something from the Qunari.

He raised his head, looking around the tavern. The room had fewer people, the bartender away from the bar, probably resting from the busy night. He could hear the minstrel plucking softly on her lute, humming a tune. "By all that is holy, does she ever sleep."

"Apparently not."

"Andraste's _tits_," Alistair moaned, glaring at the intruder. Leliana sat next to him, her smile wicked and full of mischief. "Can't you talk quieter...or better yet, don't talk at all."

She laughed, raising her eyebrows. "I hear you had a wonderful night. I'm a little disappointed that I wasn't invited."

"You would have taken all my coin, just like that...short little man," Alistair muttered, trying to rub the headache away. "Did you come to chat or did you come here to complain about Ferelden stews?"

The spymaster's nose scrunched up in disgust. He remembered fondly how she often disapproved of his cooking, often volunteering to prepare the meals herself. She shifted on the bench, throwing the letter onto the table. "Oghren sends his greetings and hopes you plan to bring him back some ale."

Alistair peered at the tiny writing, the words blurring. "Great, Velanna wrote this...I'm going to need some spectacles, and another whatever it was I had," moaned the warden. He could already feel the Dalish elf's accusations with the sharp angles and curves of her handwriting. _How COULD you lose the Warden-Commander?_ It screamed. "I'll read it later. Anything else?"

"Yes, I thought you'd like to know the Inquisitor will be leaving within the hour for Emprise du Lion. I believe you said you would be going."

His head felt heavy, falling against the table. That was today? He lamented his bad luck. "I'm going to blame this on Ash. If she didn't meddle into anything, I wouldn't be in this mess."

Leliana's eyes were unfocused; face grim as she pulled on her hood. "Yes, she does tend to meddle," she agreed, standing up. "I think I need to attend to my duties. I'll see if Helisma can create something to ease your...ailments. You'll also want to seek the Commander out to get the necessary supplies and a horse."

He mumbled his thanks as she walked away, leaving his head on the table. The room kept spinning and was there some way they could cover the windows. It wasn't long before a scout hesitantly walked over, handing him the concoction with shaky hands. It tasted sour and almost like despair, but he could feel the fogginess clearing. Before long, he was on his feet, the pounding at the back of his neck fading. He walked the battlements, waving the finger at Garrett as he walked past-the smug man laughing at him. He continued his trek, opening the wooden door to the commander's office.

"A note from Lady Cassandra Commander," The scout announced, resting the document on the table.

Cullen sighed, grabbing the enclosed message. "What is it this time?"

The scout chewed on her lip. "I...don't know. She sealed it in the envelope and glared. I didn't dare open it."

He opened the pouch tentatively, looking over the written words. "Of course she's upset," Cullen muttered, dismissing the messenger with a flick of his hand. He crumbled into his seat, paper still clutched in his hand. "Cassandra had sought out the assistance of the Hero of Ferelden and the Champion of Kirkwall nearly a year ago. She didn't find either of them. Now Hawke is here in the keep and she just learn of my deception, keeping Ashiva out of this. She'll be fuming for weeks."

Alistair smirked, shrugging his shoulders. "It can't be that bad. Things could be a lot worse. Just think, you could have a demon god baby lurking about somewhere."

"What," Cullen looked up, startled by the comment.

"Ah, nothing. Forget I said anything," Alistair rushed, feeling the heat on his face. "Leliana said I should see you about supplies for our trip."

"Oh, yes," Cullen started, standing, the paper forgotten on the desk. "I have a few things I need before we leave."

The walked around the keep was quiet, little banter between the two warriors. Alistair acquired for health poultices and cold resistance tonics, before stepping into the armory. Cullen examined the swords, balancing them in his right hand. "Looking for a new sword?"

"I was thinking about it," Cullen answered. "We don't know what we are getting ourselves into. I'd like to be prepared."

Dipping his head, Alistair couldn't agree more. "It seems your men do great work here, more than I expected. I wouldn't consider, but Master Wade would skin me alive if I came home with a sword not made by him."

Cullen chuckled. "I can imagine him doing that," he stated in amusement. "But he does create some of the best. Ashiva had the armor I wear commissioned by him. I don't know where the idea of a lion came, but she was insisted on it. Wade was happy for the challenge. Flexible enough to move freely, yet durable to a dragon's claw."

"Do you really think it is wise to go to Emprise du Lion? You are the Commander of the Inquisition," Alistair asked. "Surely there are plenty of men that would volunteer to go."

"Even if they were, I'd rather do this myself," he remarked. "I will be able to rest more easily, knowing I will be there when Ash needs me and not here, wondering otherwise."

"She wouldn't want you to beat yourself for her decisions."

"Funny you say that. Are you not doing the same?"

Alistair closed his mouth, eyes narrowing at the comment. "Well, if I am correct, I think your words for me before you left Amaranthine was to '_watch her or I will hunt you down, and kill you myself_.' I'm just trying to do what you asked."

"Dreams. Black and screams. Clashes of swords, and whispers. It calls you. Haunts you."

Alistair raised his sword, pointing it at the air. "For all that is holy…"

"Alistair, its alright," Cullen reassured, signaling to lower the weapon. A young man, no older than twenty stood next to him, hat obscuring his eyes from his sight. "Cole, now is not the-"

The boy continued, eyes glazing over. "'_By the power the Maker, mayst thou love me. As the sun follows its course, mayst thou follow me. As light to the eye, as bread to the hungry, as joy to the heart, May thy presence be with me, Oh one that I love, `til death comes to part us asunder.' _She vows, eyes glistening, hands grasped in mine...I can't believe that she's mine."

Cullen froze. He couldn't think, pulling his sword swiftly from its rest place. He glared at the boy, metal glistening in the morning sunlight. "Get out of my head," he threatens, pointing his sword at the spirit. "Oh, Maker forgive me, I will run this sword through you."

"She wouldn't want you to hurt," Cole adds, seeming unaware of the sword pointed at him. "She knew one day she would have to part from you...sooner than she hoped. She only wanted your happiness."

"Kid, I think that's enough," Varric interrupted, stepping in front of Cole. "Remember what we talked about?"

Cole stood stiffly for a moment before he nodded his head solemnly. He stepped away, vanishing from view. Varric looked back, an uncertain look on his face. "Now Curly, I know the kid has some...twerks, but was that really necessary?"

The commander lowered his sword, not in the mood for conversation with the dwarf. He looked to Alistair, the warden standing there silently, face pinched in thought. "We were going to look at the horses, yes?"

* * *

She cried out, the ice water dripping from her face onto her soaked tunic. The room seemed brighter than she remembered, her amber eyes squinting in the red-lighted dungeon. A man in templar armor holding a bucket stared at her, head tilted, eyes red and cold, lifeless.

"You look well, Surana," said the sardonic templar. "Maybe even better than you did as an apprentice."

The eyes bothered her. _Shouldn't they be blue or green perhaps_, she thought. "Where am I," she questioned. She wasn't in the Western Approach any longer. Ashiva remembered traveling for days in a carriage. She remembered the blistering heat, not the bone chilling winds that howled in her cell.

"Not in Ferelden, that is all I can say," the man said with a smirk, squatting next to her. "The boss said you needed to eat. They're afraid you're going to croak before the Elder One can use you. That would make him _very _angry."

She remembered now. The face was older, hair longer. She scooted away, eyes wide. "Carroll? What have they done to you?"

"No time for that. The Commander says you need to eat, its the order," he ignores her, voice harsh. He dropped the platter on the floor next to her. "I was here visiting this operation and they told me you were here. I just wanted to see you for myself, the woman who destroyed Kinloch Hold. You know, many of my friends died that day."

"So did mine," she whispered, eyes downcast. The elf remembered the carnage as she treaded carefully through the corridors. She felt ill, hoping the nightmare would end. In the mage quarters, she had found Solona, her closest friend, body cold. She had nearly gave up then, before Wynne had steeled her. "_If you give up now, then the tower is lost. You might as well tell Knight-Commander Greagoir to purge the tower,"_ she had seethed. She looked up, watching the red templar in sympathy. Whatever had happened to him, it was unnatural. Although she couldn't feel the Fade around her, she felt something shift when the man stood near her. It made her skin itch, nose twitch as if she needed to sneeze. Stilling herself, she looked him directly in the eyes, fighting to the fear. "But there are more lives at stake now, Carroll. Let me go, and I can find some way to help you."

His laugh was rough and thick. "The only way you will help me is to remain here and to eat. The Elder One wants you at your best. He has plans for you."

The templar lifted himself from the ground, his amusement making her feel uneasy. "Sleep well, Surana."


	6. Chapter 6

**May the Maker Watch Over You**

**Chapter 6**

**A/N: **This chapter flew by compared to the last. I'm so happy with this chapter. So many good things are happening. Hopefully Chapter 7 will come through in a week or so, but I am currently head deep in graduate courses, so updates may become slower. I will try my best to get things out...but I'm not going to make promises. I wanted to thank my readers, especially those who have reviewed, favorited, followed: **Rynadrin**, **Kyla Baines**, and **veezy713**. Please be sure to leave a review after reading. I love to hear from my readers!

I do not own Dragon Age, it all belongs to Bioware.

**Inspiration:** Lindsey Stirling's music video Crystallize, Dragon Age: Inquisition Rocky Rescue and Champions of the Just, Dragon Age: Origins, Fort Drakon, Dragon Age: Amaranthine, Ed Shee's _I See Fire_, Rite of Tranquility, Dragon Age II, Spirit of Justice, "The heart wants what is wants-or else it does not care," Emily Dickinson

* * *

Cullen couldn't remember a time when he felt so cold. The wind blew constantly, the gusts freezing to the core. Pacing next to the open flame, he hoped the warmth would move into his heavy limbs. They had arrived in Emprise du Lion, encountering the desolate village, Sahrnia. The people were reserved, wandering the crumbled stucco buildings in a comatose state. They were distrustful, clinging to their children as the Inquisition soldiers moved through the village, offering food and hot cider to the villagers. Nearly starving and frozen, the Commander wondered when was the last time these people had outside communication.

Leaning over the map, he searched for their next path. Lady Trevelyan had left with a Varric, Blackwall and Solas, closing rifts, destroying red lyrium veins and looking for evidence of Grey Warden activity. He had silently wished the Inquisitor would have taken Dorian, Cole or Alistair. The mage whine about the weather, the food, the scenery, anything he could think about. Cole...was Cole, appearing abruptly mumbling thoughts that should never be voiced and then disappearing out of thin air. Alistair on the other hand had remained silent wandering the grounds, sharpening his blade. The camaraderie he imagined the Grey Wardens had was absent. Alistair refused to be near Blackwall as they had traveled, rather hunkering near the camp fire glaring at the darker haired warrior.

Running his hand through his hair, he sighed. Rumor spread that many villagers were being held in the Sahrina Quarry by Red Templars. Others said that Suledin Keep was being held by a demon and more templars, doing experiments on creatures from the Emerald Graves. Whatever the case, both locations needed to be investigated and freed from the Red Templar's possession.

Rummaging through his pockets, he pulled out the delicate crystal container, running his thumb along the grooved edges. The liquid inside was dark, but Cullen could still feel the magic inside. Closing his eyes, he could feel her nearby, a muffled pulse of magic vibrating in the chilled air. Wherever she was, it was leaving her with little access of the Fade. It worried him.

"The fire is hot against her face, but she will not hesitate. The blade is heavy, unfamiliar. Her legs are heavy like iron, but she must run. She can't let him get there first," Cole mutters, perched on the desk. "The words finally make sense in her mind…'_In death, sacrifice._'"

He stiffens at the words. He remembered seeing them engraved on a silver cup far away from here. He remember those words as he brushed his hand against a sword, Ashiva's sword. Cullen refused to think about those grim thoughts, only focusing on the task at hand.

"Gasping, trying to find air. There is so little here," the boy continues, head clutched in his head. "'_It hurts, it hurts. Make it stop._' She walks, crawls across the stone, knees scratched, hands raw. '_I won't let you have me._'"

"That's enough Cole," Cullen pleads, head pounding. He didn't realize until he stayed in the this wasteland how drained he felt. The lyrium sang to him. He hadn't slept through the night, his left hand twitched, stomach cramped. The red lyrium tempted him with peace he sought. He wanted to hit something, scream, anything but hear it call to him.

"It bothers him too," Cole whispered, moving to sit on the ground. "The warden's skin crawls. He can hear the _song_. It calls him, beckons him to sleep, to rest. He has killed the darkspawn and sealed the keep forever, yet he still _hears_ it."

"It isn't natural," Alistair explains, stepping forward, face taut, like a rope in a game of tug of war. Cullen wondered when the string would break. "I know lyrium has qualities like this...but it has never sounded like this to me. It is too much like-"

The man paused, rubbing his chin in thought. He looked at Cullen, blue eyes hard and cold like the icicles they found on the Bone Tower. "Can I have a word with you," Alistair asks, glaring at the rouge beside him. "Alone."

With a sigh, the commander moved away from his map the pieces laid about like a chess board. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to ease the tight muscles there. "I assume you have something to tell me."

Alistair was frustrated. He was familiar with the rigid posture and the constant movement. "We have been here for _two_ days and we have not taken action to search for her," he growled between his teeth. "I know the rifts are important, but shouldn't we be helping these missing people? Ashiva could be one of them!"

"Yes, but rushing in won't help matters," Cullen remarked. "The Inquisitor is doing her best to weaken the Red Templars and Corypheus by destroying these red lyrium veins and Fade rifts. It will be easier to help these people and to continue to help them once they are destroyed."

Deflated, Alistair rubbed his left shoulder, an injury a few days ago from the behemoth. "I..yes, I understand. I just wish there was something I could be doing. Sitting here, waiting, it can drive a man crazy."

The commander chuckled. "I know. Like you, I am a man of action," he disclosed. "Knowing Ash is nearby, going through Maker knows what, drives me to near madness. The only thing that keeps me rooted here is knowing that she'd rather me be here assisting the people of Sahrina."

Alistair's mouth twitched upward, his eyes moving upward in thought. "I see."

"The Inquisitor said she would be back this afternoon to plan strategy. We will know soon enough what our course of action is," Cullen assured, patting the man on the shoulder. He looked over his shoulder, spotting the noblemen in armor shifting back and forth next to his tent.

Excusing himself from the Warden, the former templar moved through the camp, extending his hand towards the noblemen. "You must be Edouard Desjardins. I'm Commander Cullen."

"Ah, Commander. It is a relief to finally see the Inquisition here. It has been...a trying few months," Edouard stated tentatively. "I believe the people are beginning to feel the dawn will come."

"I may be bold in my statement sir, but there is," Cullen remarked, moving his sight toward the Keep looming in the distance. "This nightmare will cease soon and the people will have peace again. You have my word."

* * *

Fort Drakon. She dreamt of it often of her imprisonment for two days and the battle with Urthemiel at the top of the impending tower. Her heels clicked on the blood-stained cobbled floor hallways, her calloused hands brushing against the crumbling walls. The torches glowed an unearthly green, but it didn't bother her as much as the elegant blue gown that clung to her. Why would she be wearing silks in the gruesome prison? Why would she even be here? Since the Blight, she refused to step into the tower, praying that one day it would crumble into oblivion.

Her first visit here she had been tortured, beaten because she was a traitor to Ferelden. The elf could still remember the soured smell of the soldier leaning over her, his smile sickening and frightening in her weakened state. She wasn't able to fight back when he grabbed her, dragging her into the darkened room. Her screams were muffled by the iron doors..._No!_

Ashiva stumbled, leaning against the walls heavily. They were cool to the touch, anchoring her to here and now. The elf didn't want to remember that. At the back of her mind, she swore she could hear laughter. She swallowed the bile that formed at the back of her throat, pushing herself up from her crumbled state on the floor. She needed to keep moving.

The elf's feet felt heavy, as if she were wearing iron boots. Gritting her teeth, she pushed forward, struggling to open the metal gate. She was startled to see the rows of iron bars, prisoners standing helplessly in each. Taking a deep breath, she pushed her shoulders back, lifting her head high before she took her time walking into the large dungeon.

In the first cell, she swore her heart was ready to bound out of her chest, stood a mage she never thought to see again. Jowan wore his blue apprentice robes, hands clenched tightly around the iron gates.

"Hello, Ashiva," he whispered. "I never thought I'd see you again, you of all people."

"Jowan," Ashiva said quietly, moving closer to the cage. "What are you doing?"

"You put me here," he mumbled, shifting away from the bars. "Have you come to finish me off?"

"I don't understand...I left you here in Fort Drakon," she asked, uncertain. "How is that possible? I-"

"You killed me," he finishes. "Welcome to the Hall of Regrets, Ash."

* * *

"_We'll move at nightfall,"_ the Inquisitor announced earlier, pointing at the map. _"I scouted the area. Dorian, Iron Bull, Varric and I will invade from the back...our priority is defeating the Red Templar Lieutenants, Cullen I need you, Cole, Alistair and Blackwall to come behind us and help the survivors."_

It was a sound plan. Alistair knew that as he walked behind the Commander. The sun had set hours ago, leaving them only with jars filled with a substance that glowed. "_A chemical reaction, Alistair,_" Ashiva would have said with enthusiasm. She always was in love with alchemy. _Maker, I hope she's here_, he pleaded to himself.

He remembered when they found her in Fort Drakon. Bruises were around her legs and shoulders, thin cuts on her abdomen and arms, clothing discarded. They had tortured her and bled her. The smell in the tiny cell was overpowering of sickness and blood. It made him nauseous. She had only been there for a day and a half and she was nearly dead in his arms. He didn't want to imagine the condition she could be in now, nearly a month in the hands of red templars. It made his vision red in fury. The warden clinged to his sword tighter, hoping to find an opportunity to swing it at the bastards that held his friend.

Cole moved past the group, blending into the night. The iron carts rested near the abandoned quarry, dead templars scattered around the area. The Inquisitor had been through here, leaving her form of justice in her path. The rogue kneeled near one of the wagons, the sound of metal the only sound that the spirit was messing with the locks. Alistair moved away from the carts, preparing for a fight with whoever was willing. To his disappointment, there was nothing but the sounds of wolves far from them.

He watched Cullen assist an older woman from the cart, asking if there were more prisoners. One of the men answered, a tall middle-aged man, shoulders slumped in exhaustion.

"Just up the hill, there's another area where miners were working near. There were two more up there," he answered gruffly.

"We should keep moving," Blackwall stated, shuffling on his feet. The bearded man seemed restless.

Cullen nodded, pointing. "You and the others should head north, you'll find our camp. You'll be safe there," he directed the prisoners. "We will look for the others."

"Maker bless you," one woman whispered as the small group moved north, away from the quarry. Alistair could hear Cole beside him murmur something about liking to help people.

They moved forward again, eyes searching the darkness around them. Alistair only hoped they would find her somewhere amongst these ruins.

* * *

She clenched chunks of her hair in her fists, teeth grinding. The pain consumed her, devouring her like a dragon swallowing their prey whole. Her head pounded. The slightest noise and light made her cringe. How much more could she take before she took the plunge into insanity?

She fiddled with her loose trousers, finding the dagger. She twirled it in her hands, admiring the jagged black blade. It glistened like obsidian, and was sharp to the touch. Ashiva had already nicked her index finger, testing the blade.

The elven women knew one way to get out of this nightmare. Before she would have thought it the coward's way out, but as she traveled the maze of halls, she was beginning to think it a mercy. Perhaps there was no way out but this choice?

She remembered sitting in the circle decades ago, reading at the tiny desk. She was appalled by the Rite of Tranquility. It was what made her help Jowan. She never wanted it for him. Through her travels through, her views were showing her that life was not black or white. Nor was the controversial topic of the Tranquil. The book was old, the tome moan as she turned through the pages. The elf remembered reading the passage about the mage in the fade dying, their persona changing. Their death in the fade made them tranquil.

Ashiva was powerless here, her magic and weapons taken from her. Her willpower was waning with every struggling breath she took in the distorted environment. She had continued to fight, pressing forward through the cells. Each became worse to bear, more regrets, more what ifs. Jowan. Solona. Anders. Her friends from the circle, their lives horrible twisted because of her. Conner, pleading for his life. Isolde screaming at her, demanding her death. So many choices she made and regretted later.

She should have stopped Jowan, she should had told Irving. She should had went to the tower first. She should had searched for Anders after the events at Vigil's Keep. She should had-

The elf sighed, her crumbled form defeated. In the back of her mind, she knew this was the plan of the demon. Weaken her, delay her as it slowly fed of her, learning who she was. Envy wanted to be her. At this point though, Ashiva didn't give a damn. She just wanted everything to stop, to rest.

Hadn't she done enough already? She destroyed the lives of so many for her decisions, the blood on her hands. She was drowning in it. Ashiva had tried to redeem herself, saving Redcliffe, Denerim, Amaranthine. But was it enough? She had often asked the same question, kneeled in the pews of the small chantry, staring at the desolate stone eyes of Andraste.

She had stumbled into the small shrine, finding peace in the stone statue wielding the blade. It was time to end this. If there was anyone that deserved Tranquility, it was her. She looked around her, the candles glowly lightly around her. Lifting the blade, she was in awe of the shimmering ebony.

"In death...sacrifice," she whispered, thrusting the blade into her chest. She inhaled harshly, closing her eyes. The pain was unbearable. It was everywhere, in her leg, chest, in her head. The elf whimpered in pain, crumbling into herself.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

The pain continued, confusion settling in her mind. Shouldn't she be feeling the warm liquid around her? Shouldn't she not feel anything? Opening her eyes, she analyzed her wound. Nothing. Looking across the wooden floors, she saw the dagger out of her reach, glittering in the dim lighting. No evidence of blood rested on the blade.

"Why do you linger here, friend? This is not your place."

Ashiva gasped, clinging to her side. She looked around the small room, trying to find the owner of the voice. No one. The candles seem to glow brighter, whiter compared to the normal reddish-greenish light she had become accustomed to in the Fade. "Who is here?"

The sound of heavy armor made her tense. She reached for the dagger still out of reach with no luck. The elf saw the gauntlet first, reaching out to her. Her eyes traveled the arm, reaching the armored helm of the white being. She recognized the armor, though she had not seen it for nearly a decade. The rumors of his existence had troubled her, but she left it there, not seeking the spirit she had once befriended. Her eyes widened in disbelief, deja vu overwhelming her. "Justice? I thought you were dead?"

"Warden-Commander, I have watched for too long. The time to act has come," the spirit answered.

Ashiva took the hand, lifting herself from the ground. She gawked at Justice, her confusion settling further down into her stomach. "Is this yet another lie? Something Envy is creating to make me stumble?"

"I am no illusion, I am Justice," it simply stated. "Warden-Commander, you must continue to move. You must remain vigilant."

She scoffed. "Are you really going to tell me that? For Maker's sake what have I been doing this whole time? I have remained vigilant as I plunged the blade into Urthemiel. I remained vigilant when we killed the Architect and the Mother. I remained vigilant protecting a city that didn't want me as Vigil was destroyed. My friends died, people that believed in me died, because of my vigilance."

She fought the tears. "I remained vigilant as Kirkwall crumbled into ashes by one of my wardens, by YOU!"

"The world you live in...it was nothing like I thought it would be. It was full of beauty...and so many mortals worth saving. I tried...but failed," he explains. "I heard you call out. I would not leave you, my friend, my Warden-Commander."

The spirit saluted, his fist pounded his chest. Ashiva. "I watched as they dragged you into this place. The templars lost their honor, lost their purpose, yet they were impressed. They conquered the infamous Hero of Ferelden. They cheered their victory, boasted their triumph, but none like the one that put you here."

"I don't know how long I have been here, neither how I called out to you, but I was brought here by Envy. It wants to be me," Ashiva whispered, careful with her message. If this was demon, she didn't want to give it more knowledge.

"Warden-Commander, you have no weapon, no armor," the spirit added. "We must search for these things, then defeat this demon.'

She grinned, brushing the hair out of her face. "Now that, I can agree with."

* * *

He felt the magic before he felt the heat of the fire. Cullen stumbled back, the templar he had bashed with his shield in a blaze. He looked behind him, glaring at the Tevinter mage, turning back to finish the scorched man. Perhaps it was better than the embarrassment of dropping his sword in the middle of a battle because it became ablazed in a magical blue flame.

Lady Trevelyan stepped beside him, surveying the area. "Well done, Commander. It seems you had this under control."

"Just because I command you army, Inquisitor doesn't mean I cannot wield a blade. Someone has to teach the farmers to fight with a blade," counter Cullen with a smirk. "We have searched the quarry. This is the last of the hostages."

She looked relieved, rubbing her sword arm. "Wonderful. The families in Sahrnia will be most pleased," she whispered, handing him the missive. "Unfortunately, I came across this in my findings. It seems our dear Mistress Poulin may have told us a little white lie."

Cullen scanned the paper, holding the paper to the glowing glass bottle. He frowned with what little he could read. "So she was allowing this."

"Apparently so. Have one of your men round her up and take her to Skyhold. We will hold her responsible for this," the Inquisitor ordered. "Has there been anything on-"

"Not at the moment. I planned to ask some of the survivors. Perhaps they might know something," he answered, hiding his disappointment. He had hoped he would had found her here in the ruins, unharmed and pissed he hadn't come sooner.

Evelyn looked at him, sadness creeping into her gaze. "It's not over yet, Cullen. Have faith."

Cullen saluted, before stepping away from the woman. He moved forward, seeing Alistair, Blackwall and Cole speaking to the hostages. It was a smaller group, a mixture of elderly and young boys, probably orphans Mistress Poulin had promised to protect. Anger formed in his gut, fist clenched. He hoped justice would reign down on the woman for taking advantage of the fearful villagers.

He caught one of the men by the arm. "I'm sorry, but I have to ask...was there a warden mage with you before?"

"Warden? There was no warden," the man answer, spitting at the ground. "No damn warden with us."

Alistair stepped up. "Cullen, she probably didn't want to be recognized. She wouldn't have worn the Warden armor," he advised, softly. "Even if she had worn it, they probably would had stripped it from her, leaving her with no defenses."

Cullen nodded. "Fine. How about an elven woman. Golden eyes and hair as black as night. It would glow silver in the moonlight. Pale skin."

The man sneered, face contorting in anger. "A knife-ear? You're searching for a damn knife-ear?"

He bite his lip, fighting his temptation to hit the man over the head. The prejudice was something he never understood growing up in the circle. Sure there were humans and elves, but they were all treated the same. Ashiva was one of the cleverest mages he had ever met. If only the man knew his prejudice was over the Grey Warden who defeated the Fifth Blight. At the corner of his eye, he noticed Alistair shift, his hand twitching near his sword. Cullen wasn't the only one agitated by the man's slander.

"Yes...she's-"

"Yes, the knife-ear is part of an investigation the Inquisitor is looking into," Alistair interrupted, glowering at the man. "Anything can help us find her."

The man shook his head. "Talk to the boy here. He mentioned something about an elf."

The boy was young, fifteen at most. His face was dirty with soot, cleaning his nails with the tiny dagger. "Aye, there was an elf. Woman, with black hair. I didn't see her eyes. She was unconscious when they drove through the streets."

"Who drove through the streets," Cullen questioned.

"Red Templars. They've been here for three months," the boy replied. "She came in after a big storm. They stopped in Sahrnia, stole some of our food. They force the healer to straighten the elf's leg. It was broken bad. The screams were something from my nightmares. They stayed for two days before they left for Suledin Keep, taking her with them."

Suledin Keep. Cullen swore under his breath. They wouldn't force a mage to eat lyrium. Raw lyrium could kill a mage. The men and women they saved tonight were only for experiments, forcing the hostages to eat the red rocks. To go so much out of the way to move her from the Western Approach to here, they wanted her alive for something. But what?

He thanked the boy, stepping away from the crowd and pulling out the phylactery. Cullen knew she had to be close. The glass container glowed and vibrated wildly. Pointing it in the direction of the ancient elven keep, he felt the pulse speed up more, pointing in that direction. She was there. She was in Suledin Keep, alive.

* * *

_She returned from the Warden Prison a week after they had made camp. Although he had disagreed with her decision he had remained with Thrash and Keran, waiting for her to return. He noticed the dark circles under her eyes and the loose strands of hair blowing in the arid wind. She had darker spots on her armor, blood splatters. He prayed that it was not her own blood. She stood away from the fire, her body facing the shadow of the tower. _

_He hated this. Since her return, the distance between them had grown, as if the past two weeks traveling together had meant nothing. Whatever had happened in the prison had unnerved her. He knew she wouldn't tell him the secrets of the order she belonged with, but he only hoped that she would rely on him. She didn't have to do this alone._

_Cullen frowned. He had denied it for years, these affections he had towards the elf. It was forbidden in the circle. He had watched her from a distance, her hands twisting in the blue apprentice robes. He knew she feared the water, avoiding the swimming lessons that had happened when she was a child. She hummed softly as she spun intricate designs in the air, the fade opening. As she read from the ancient tomes, she absently tapped the desk with her index finger. His infatuation with her, although never acted upon was known throughout the halls. He heard the whispers from the other mages. _

_Then she was in Kirkwall, a Grey Warden. Although not being a mage from the circle anymore, he knew the relationship was inappropriate. If anyone was to find out, it could mean trouble for him or for her, but he couldn't leave her. He wanted to know her. The letters were a comfort, something he read to himself before he slept. She mentioned her wardens, Alistair, Oghren, Velanna, Sigrun and Nathaniel. She spoke of Amaranthine and the celebrations she partook in. She wrote of her nightmares, people's screams, dark smoke and a black dragon flying around her. Cullen was honored that she trusted him with this knowledge, but he wanted more._

"_Do you plan to stand here, or actually speak to her?"_

_Cullen groaned, turning to acknowledge the red-headed templar. "Ser Thrask, you needed something?"_

"_I've watch you two dance around each other for weeks," Thrask started, moving his head towards Ashiva. He chuckled. "Young love, I envy you Cullen."_

"_This...this isn't what you think it is," Cullen excused rapidly, tongue twisting in his mouth. "I admire her...her strength. She saved Ferelden, my home. My family….sister and brothers are alive because of her."_

_Thrask shook his head, disapprovingly. "It's more than that. I've been in your shoes before. I know what it is."_

"_She's a mage...it would be inappropriate," the templar stuttered, feeling the battle was being lost. Love. It was a word he refused to use. Love was for other people. Not for him. Never for him._

"_That's the thing about love and the heart," Thrask chuckles, lowering himself to the ground, inviting Cullen to join him. Cullen obliged. "The heart wants what it wants. There is no reasoning to it. It doesn't matter not to the heart if they are poor or rich, elf or human or even if they are a mage or a templar. It loves whom it wants to love."_

_Cullen sat there, thinking carefully over the words. He looked at the older man, eyes distant staring at the flame at the heart of the camp. This conversation wasn't something he was prepared for. Had Thrask been in love before? With a mage? "Were you...have you…"_

"_Lara wasn't a mage, but a merchant girl. Hair like gold and eyes bluer than the sky," he answered. "The summer before I was sent off to be a templar, our love flourished. That summer was special. I think of it on my worst days and it makes things better in a way."_

_Thrask smiled, turning his blue eyes on him. "Go over there and talk to her. I don't plan to report you to Meredith. Even if something was said, there is nothing they can do. That warden is not part of the circle or in the service to the chantry any longer."_

_Cullen didn't know how long he sat there, watching Ashiva before he stood, grabbing the blanket from his tent. His steps were heavy, weighted by the excessive armor. The chill crept through the armor but he pressed forward, draping the wool blanket on her shoulders. She gasped, startled when she turned to him. _

"_Cullen?"_

"_You looked cold out here by yourself and thought you might like a blanket...maybe some company."_

_The smile was small but beautiful on her delicate features. Her amber eyes glowed in the night, similar to the cats that lurked the shadows in Lowtown. She brushed the black strands of hair away from her pale skin, her face downcast. "I...I'd like that," she murmured, clinging to the blanket now around her shoulders. _

_They stood next to one another, looking out in the distance, the full moon the only source of light. She closed her eyes, breathing deeply the mountain air. "Being in that prison, I didn't know if I would have a chance to breath in fresh air again, to see the stars again….to see," she paused, opening her eyes to look at the templar. "To see you again."_

"_I...I didn't like you leaving to go in there alone," he stuttered. "The magic...it's so dense here. I can't imagine what it was like there."_

_He could taste the magic in the air, his lungs suffocating. His skin itched all week as he practice with his blade, meditated, and prayed. Ashiva nodded. "Yes, and the taint was everywhere as well. The darkspawn swarmed the entire place. The Fade was weak...Jerry, Sharon and I had to weave the fade back together in many areas. It was brutal work, but we didn't find what caused the disturbance. It...troubles me. It should have been there."_

"_We saw a group traveling to the prison. Did you encounter them?"_

"_Orlesian Wardens," she replied, disdain in her voice. "They decided they would handle the problem. Those Orlesians insisted that they were in charge and that my place was not anywhere near that prison. I finished my investigation and left with a knot in my stomach, but I wasn't going to cause a civil war with the Orlesian pigs."_

_Cullen chuckled. "I'm just glad you came back, safe."_

_Ashiva grabbed his hand, lacing his fingers in hers. "As am I," the elf whispered. Her forehead crinkled in confusion, the right side of her lip twitching into a half grin. "I have a confession, Cullen."_

"_So you are going to finally admit it was you that froze Knight-Commander Gregoir's smalls and placed them in the Commons," challenged Cullen, his smile giving away his mischief."_

"_No, that was Solona. I'll never forget the look on his face.," she laughed lightly, eyes brightening in memory. she cleared her throat though her smile remained on her pink lips. "I've thought a lot about you Cullen, more than a mage should about a templar."_

"_You...you care about me," he mumbles, knowing the more he speaks the more he sounds like a buffoon. This was ridiculous. The were standing next to one another, hands clasped together, her soft confession of affections towards him and all he can think to say is "you care for me?" He wanted to kick himself. Cullen looked up at the sky, praying that there would be words for him to read up there. Nothing. He sighed, shoulders slouched. _

"_Yeah," she said, strained. The laugh sounds low, twisting her other hand in her hair. "Yeah, I care about you...more than I should...more than is wise." Ashiva looked lost, shaking her head. _

"_What's wrong?"_

"_What's wrong, he says," she repeated, tormented. "You're a templar and I'm a mage! Our lives...it wouldn't work. We would never work and it makes me angry...sad...frustrated."_

_She lets his hand go, pulling her arms around herself. He misses the warmth of her touch. "I know we were trying to move on from Kinloch, but I can't stop thinking about it. I remember what Uldred did to you...the desire demon...your anger. You say you never thought me like them, but I can't help but think. Do you trust mages? Do you trust me?"_

_He grabbed her by the shoulders, lifting her face upwards to look at him. The sadness on her face, stirred his heart in ways he didn't know could happen. "Ash, we talked about this already. You were never one of them. You're not Uldred, nor the blood mages that took over the circle. You're you, the Hero of Ferelden, my friend and my savior," he answered, lowering his voice. He didn't want their conversation to be overheard. "I trust you implicitly."_

"_Then what of your feelings," the mage whispered._

_The templar inhaled, clinging to her shoulders tighter. What were his feelings? He had thought this through, made a plan. He always had a plan. "I think about you often...and what I might say in this sort of situation." Cullen stepped away, fighting to clear his head. What had he planned to say before he began to stumble over his words? He couldn't remember anymore._

_Her small hand grabbed his gauntlet, drawing him back to her. He did expect to feel her lips pressed against his, her other hand coming up to brush against his face. There is no need for words now, his arms wrapping around her lithe form, pulling her closer to him. It seems like an eternity and too soon when they part, her eyes fluttering open. He noticed for the first time how cold her expression had been throughout the trip, her face softer. Cullen brushed his gauntlet across her lips softly, wishing he had thought to take the armor off before visiting her._

"_That was...really nice," mumbled the Knight-Captain, wishing to curl up in a corner. Words were not his ally._

_She grinned, pulling him down to her level, wrapping the blanket around both of them. "Stay with me, here tonight."_

_Cullen smiled, wrapping his arm tighter around her waist. "Always."_


	7. Chapter 7

**May the Maker Watch Over You**

Chapter 7

**A/N:** apologize for the delay in this chapter. Life has been a whirlwind on all ends. Taking tests for my teaching license, turning in a portfolio and preparing for my Graduate comps has taken its toll on me. Not to mention the discouragement after hearing the news that my husband's position was being cut for the next year, so I have been furiously applying for jobs for myself and him in three different states.

I want to thank you for the continued support of this story. As I mentioned before, it was originally just a what-if one-shot. I didn't imagine writing more about this elven warden.

I could use your help though. As I progress through this story, I would love to hear your opinions. I have a poll on my page concerning the Inquisitor romance. If you could take time to let me know by voting or leaving me something in the comments, I would appreciate it!

**Inspiration: **Latin, natural medicines, Dragon Age II Legacy DLC, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the characters from Dragon Age but to Bioware.

* * *

Maker, she hated the smell of healing potions. It burned her nostrils, reeking of earthly smells and tingling magic. Evelyn groaned, lowering her head onto the table. She felt as if she would vomit any moment. "Dorian, please go easy on the stuff. You know how much I hate the odor."

"My dear Inquisitor, if you weren't so bold in your actions hacking at everything standing, you wouldn't have to be in this mess," Dorian countered over her shoulder. The cut was deep, carving her lower back. "Just hold still for a moment and it will be over before you know it."

The Inquisitor breathed slowly through her mouth. "I should have searched for spirit healers. At least then I wouldn't have to endure this."

The mage chuckled. "Oh Eveline, if this bothers you, then you really don't want their stuff. It smells atrocious and even includes burning and itchy skin for days," he replied, shuffling in his leather boots. "There, I think that will be it."

The noblewoman lowered her thin tunic, looking up at her friend with a smile. "Thank you, Dorian. What would I do without you?"

"Apparently bleed out. Do be sure not to forget about me when you decide to go hack more red templars. I'd hate to see you lose your head," Dorian said, smirking as he left the small tent.

Evelyn sighed, leaning against her hand propped on the table. Fighting through the quarry had been extraneous in the night. Although she trusted her team and their capabilities, she knew the endless days of battle were wearing them thin. She was tired, ready to collapse for a few weeks. There was only so much a woman could do.

But she was more than just a woman to these people. She was the Herald of Andraste and the leader of the Inquisition. She was their hero in their darkest hour, staring down the magister and the dark dragon in Haven. She would never be just a woman again.

Grabbing her leather coat, she shrugged it on her shoulder, tensing as the fabric rubbed against her wound. It would take time to heal. Unfortunately she didn't have the time necessary to rest and allow her body to heal from the ailments that bothered her. Opening the tent flap, she squinted at the morning light, overcasted by the winter clouds. Fresh snow covered the ground.

Already, scouts were moving towards her, handing her reports, concerns, and letters from Skyhold. Evelyn took them, greeting each with the etiquette taught to her as a child. _I am Lady Eveline Trevelyan, heir to House Trevelyan,_ she thought to herself.

"The Corps of Engineers have arrive and will begin preparations on restoring Judicael's Crossing."

"Excellent," the Inquisitor stated, scanning the camp. "Show them the area. If there is anything they need refer them to Commander Cullen. He has better knowledge on these matters."

"Yes Ser," the scout answered, saluting and walking away.

"You know, the great thing about dead magisters coming back to life causing havoc is how it brings people together," a sarcastic voice commented behind her shoulder.

She turned, grinning at Warden Alistair. He was a head taller than her, blonde hair glistening in the morning light. His arms were crossed across his chest, the warden armor replaced with heavy leathers sword hanging loose against his hip. The brunette smiled, swaying her hips as she moved to stand in front of him. "You, Warden Alistair, are a strange man."

He chuckled lips twitching into a smile. "You're not the first woman to tell me that," he replied. "Ash was great to remind me whenever she could."

Sadness crept into the warden's blue eyes. She rested her hand on his shoulder, squeezing it slightly. "Once the storm has passed, we will go to Suledin Keep. Its too dangerous right now to storm in."

"No, I agree with you. We can't take risks like that," Alistair agreed, blue eyes hardening. "I just...as soon as its clear Inquisitor, I'd like to start moving. It seems I'm not the only one. Cullen has been pacing the tents, making sure every preparation is ready for our trek when the time comes."

Evelyn chewed on her lower lip, nodding. Cullen had informed her of his withdrawal from lyrium. She had also knew of his nightmares, often waking the men in the barracks from his shouts. Since they had arrived, she noticed his hands shaking, his eyes dark and troubled. She was concern for the commander, sending silent prayers to strengthen in, to help him endure this battle.

"You know, I know you're this high and mighty Inquisitor and the Herald of Andraste, but I really don't know anything else about you. Where are you from?'

Startled she looked up from her thoughts, blinking at the warden. His eyes were on her, studying her. Coughing, she lowered her head, hoping that the blush on her cheeks looked like from the cold breeze than her embarrassment. "I'm the youngest of House Trevelyan in Ostwick."

"Oh, that explains the accent," Alistair mused. "Your a noble from the Free Marches. I've been to Ostwick before on some Grey Warden business."

Smiling she nodded. "Grey Warden business? When?"

"Years ago, before Kirkwall blew up," he brushed off nonchalantly. "It wasn't anything exciting. Barricading some of the deep roads, fighting darkspawn, the works."

"Ahhh," she mumbled. "I miss it. The warm breeze, the taste of salt in the air, the sound of crashing waves. I've enjoyed my visits to Ferelden and Orlais, but they are so different from home."

Alistair nodded. "Ferelden was always my home. I was raised in Redcliff before...well, before everything," he added, drifting off in his own thoughts. He looked around the camp, his gaze lingering on the red stalactites of lyrium. "The lyrium disturbs me more than the templars. The way it's growing, it makes me fear for Ash. It reminds me of the Warden prison she visited in the Vinmark Mountains. It was the same place Hawke went and killed Corypheus. She snuck out of Amaranthine to investigate the ruins herself."

Evelyn raised her eyebrows, intrigued. "The Hero of Ferelden adventures outside of Ferelden without anyone knowing? That's unheard of."

"Ash has always been light on her feet. I didn't go with her that time, which probably helped her escape Amaranthine without notice. I wish I had gone with her though. She was haunted when she returned two months later, her dreams darker than normal. She didn't sleep nor eat. She just worked, traveling all of Ferelden recruiting and praying in the Chantry of Our Lady Redeemer. All she told me was that 'we had to be prepared,'" Alistair explained. "Oghren told me a little more of the story. No body, no ashes, but the magic was still strong in the fortress. He and a few men had went deeper into the fortress, fighting back darkspawn when he found it. Red lyrium underneath the prison...it was the first time I started making a connect with red lyrium and the blight."

"Unfortunately they weren't able to do anything about it. Warden-Commander Clarel had came. She decided that when Hawke killed Corypheus, the matter was resolved. The magic still lingering in the air was all that remained. Ashiva argued with her. Archdemons don't die from simple injury afterall. She feared that Corypheus might have the same power. The argument became...heated and Ash and her men were ordered to leave the premises."

"That's when you started investigating. When Warden-Commander Ashiva returned," Eliana mused, remembering the conversation they had in the abandoned caverns outside of Crestwood.

"With the whole sensing darkspawn, I can also usually sense other Grey Wardens nearby. For some reason though, I can't sense her. The corrupted lyrium is disrupting it."

She didn't understand the Grey Warden sense. Blackwall had never mentioned this ability, yet Alistair spoke of it often. They knew when darkspawn or other wardens were nearby from something inside them. It made her curious. If he had this ability, why did the red lyrium interrupt it?

She hesitated opening the wooden door. Would it be another vision? Someone from her past? She clutched the brass handle tightly, her knuckles turning white.

Ashiva looked over her shoulder towards the armored spirit. Seeing Justice again gave her mixed emotions. She was relieved to see an old friend and for the assistance it was willing to give. On the other hand, she was weary of it being the spirit she befriended. She had already encountered many friends both alive and deceased that were only figments of Envy's deceit. Was Justice another pawn to know her?

When Anders was reported dead, little was known on the spirit's whereabouts. Had it died with Anders or been freed to roam the Fade again?

Gathering the last of her willpower she opened the door. The Hall of Regrets remained the same. Rows of cells filled with people from her past. Taking a deep breath, she looked ahead into the darkness highlighted by green lights.

"So we just need to go forward and that will weaken the demon," she asked, grabbing the torch near the door.

Justice nodded, pointing into the darkness. "The demon cannot keep creating new faces without its power weakening."

Ashiva took a step and grimaced. Her physical body was weakening, reflecting through her dreams in the Fade. She did not know how long she would be able to continue this charade without her losing to her body or her mind. Would she be able to reclaim who she was before the demon possessed her image and took everything she had worked for? Leaning against the metal bars of a cell, she gasped for breath. "I hope we can find a staff soon. I don't know how much longer I can walk without assistance."

"We can't delay then," the spirit concluded, moving to take the lead, the mage stumbling behind.

The warden and spirit walk in silence through the long corridor. Ashiva pushed her mind away from what she sees. She sees young Conner, tightly holding the iron bars with his tiny hands. He was too young...too young to die. But he did, by her hand ten years ago. All he ever wanted was to save his father.

She stops at the tiny cell. How old would the boy be if he were alive now? What would he be doing? Would he be a strong mage, protecting Ferelden?

"Stop," commanded Justice, grabbing her arm. "You are only giving the demon more knowledge to feed on."

"But these people," she whispered. "They can't remain here."

"Commander, they aren't real. This is your mind. You are the one in control."

If she were in control, why did she feel as if everything was falling apart around her? "But Envy-"

The armored warrior, grabbed her shoulders, making her look up at the helmet. "Yes, Envy is inside of your mind and is making you shift through your mind, but it is still _your_ mind. It was you who called for me. I came because _you_ called. Not Envy."

"I...called," she thought aloud, flustered. She couldn't remember calling for anything-most importantly Justice. This wasn't the first time she had forgotten something. As she walked through the Fade, she had forgotten where she was going, even who she was. Why couldn't she remember? "I don't...why can't I remember?"

"I'm...unsure Commander," the Spirit of Justice confessed, letting her go. "I think it has something to do with your body. When I'm near you, it feels familiar….like home, but corrupted...red and not blue."

"Red...not blue," she spoke softly, her memory flashing to glowing red stalactites. She couldn't place where she had seen the vision before, but it made her tense her shoulders, strain her eyes and made her back of her head and neck ache.

She looked in the cell again. The boy was as young as she remembered, ash blonde hair, clothes covered in dirt, as if he had been playing with the other children in Redcliff. He looked at her, eyes filled with curiosity, seeing something new.

"Have you come to kill me? The scary lady...she said you would," he asked, tilting his head to the side.

Ashiva frowned. She remembered this conversation, kneeling next to the young boy. He had looked scared, frightened of what had happened and what he knew was to come. She tried to make her face comforting, smiling at the child. "The scary lady, do you know what she is Connor?"

"She's a bad person. I heard her in my dreams. She was everywhere," he answered, lowering his gaze. "Like the bad person that is wandering in your dreams."

The mage opened her mouth, startled by the child's words. The demon in her dreams? Connor knew of Envy. "Connor, she's not a lady. She's a demon...and the people in my dreams...they're part of my demon's plan."

"Sometimes she's nice...but other times she's mean," he added, a sad smile on his face. "But your demon isn't ever nice. Always taking, and taking more. It never lets your dream good dreams. It only wants to hurt you, weaken you, and take everything you are for itself."

She gasped, stepping away from the cell. Connor's eyes glinted with purple light. Biting her lip, she looked around, spotting an unlit brazier. "I'm sorry Connor, but our time is coming to an end."

"You're going to kill me now. What happens? I'm afraid...I don't know," he mumbled.

She shushed him, moving closer. "I'm unsure what happens when you die, but I have heard stories. The Dalish Elves believe that you take a great journey into the Beyond, but the Chantry says we return to the Maker. Either way, you are at peace."

"What do you believe," he asked.

She lowered her eyebrows in consideration. For years she had debated with her beliefs. She struggled with how the Maker could allow so much tragedy to happen to his creation. Why were they punished for the mistakes of magisteres centuries ago?Why hadn't He interfered yet, taken control and brought order into a chaotic world? Why was she as a mage so wretched in the sight of the Maker when He created her this way?

Ashiva relied on the people close to her to make these decisions. Leliana was strong in her faith and often brought clarity to her questions. Cullen was devoted, praying every morning and night. Even with her uncertainty, he remained faithful to the Chantry. She admired him for it. Then there were those she encountered that had other beliefs entirely. Velanna, a Dalish Elf, taught her about the Elven gods. They would often sit in the courtyard near the oak tree talking about the old ways. Although she did not grow with the Dalish, Velanna treated her like one, telling her old tales from her clan. And then there was Sigrun and Oghren, who were raised to believe in The Stone and that they would return to the Stone one day. Although the two dwarfs rarely spoke of their past heritage, Ashiva had uncovered many codex describing the beliefs.

"I think that wherever it is you go, you will be at peace. There will be no more pain or suffering. There will always be light, and it won't be cold. You won't ever have to be frightened again," she said, lighting the brazier. The fire glowed green, magic embedded into it.

She looked back into the cell, startled that the boy was gone, replaced with a wooden staff. She could hear children laughing, playing games in the distance. She smiled. Connor was finally at peace. She reached for the staff, sighing in relief has she put her weight on the weapon. Looking at her torch, she finally believed she would be able to get out of this place. "Alright Justice, lets move on."

The wind howled, snow swirling around them as they marched. The snow had stopped by the fog gave them an opportunity for cover. They traveled on foot as a small unit toward the elven keep.

Evelyn moved ahead, leading the group through the snow drifts. She wrapped the leather jacket around her tightly, her limbs chilled from the freezing weather. She would love to be huddled in her tent with hot cider, but she made a promise to search the keep. A Trevelyan always kept their promises, even if they did freeze.

She caught a quick glance behind her, her companions struggling in the snow. Alistair was right behind her, squinting as he followed her. Dorian was next, using his magic to thaw the snow in their tracks. She knew Varric had to be relieved that he wouldn't have to push through the snow. Evelyn remembered their trek through the Frostback Mountains, the snow was over the dwarf's head. The storyteller paced himself in the middle of the group near Cullen, Bianca carefully placed on his back. He seemed to be distracting the Commander from his troubling thoughts.

Solas walked alone, taking in the details of the ruins of their surroundings. She knew the elves had once lived in this wintery place but were uprooted by the Orlesians. The Inquisitor wondered if the elf had visited the fade yet to see the old memories. She would have to ask him later when they were back in Skyhold. After Solas, Blackwall, Cole and Iron Bull stayed in the back with the other soldiers, guarding their flank.

Evelyn knew she needed to have a plan, but so many people under her lead intimidated her. She was use to her small party, each with their own abilities contributing in a battle. She rarely gave out an order unless it was necessary. Although she was concern for the ex-templar, she was relieved Cullen was with her. He would be able to assist in making a sound strategy against the red templars.

She heard fighting up ahead. Unsheathing her sword, she raised it high before charging into battle. Cole raced past her in a blur, his daggers rapidly attacking an archer ahead of their group. She admired the speed and precision the boy had with his blades. Her heart pounded loudly in her chest, piercing the red templar in the heart before he could warn his companions. Her shield clashed with a sword before she could reclaim her weapon. An arrow wiped past her ear, hitting its target in the eye. Evelyn grimaced, watching the man crumble to the ground.

The scrimmage was over soon after. None of her men were badly wounded, searching the bodies for information. She was startled to see the blonde hair chevalier from outside Sahrnia. Stepping forward, she greeting the warrior with a nod. "Michel de Chevin, I didn't expect to see you here."

"Bad news Herald," Michel greeted, frowning. "Your efforts to drive the red templars away have not gone unnoticed."

Evelyn smiled sheepishly. "I wasn't necessarily quiet in my efforts. I'm disappointed that the welcome committee wasn't bigger."

The chevalier chuckled. "Yes, as am I. The villagers are relieved to see their loved ones alive and well. They sent their regards," he stated. "Unfortunately, Ishmael knows we're here. He sent red templars after me and a pack of shades are now heading to Sahrnia. The people are defenseless. I must return without delay."

"You won't go alone," she countered. "Solas, Iron Bull and Varric, go with Michel de Chevin. Keep the people safe. We'll take care of the mess here."

The three left, following the warrior down the large hill. She bite her lip, look forward at the large stone keep. She heard Dorian swear behind her. Evelyn knew the keep was large, but she didn't think it would be near the size of Skyhold. Why hadn't people used this position before?

Farther into the keep, crimson red tents contrasted the pearly white snow. The camp was vacant, traces of footprints hidden by the snow. Investigating further, Evelyn came across a small missive.

_We must carefully control exposure to red lyrium. The last one entered a savage frenzy from the lyrium; we had to put it down. Once the red lyrium takes hold, their strength increases, as we expected, but it makes them even more difficult to leash._

A chill ran down her spine, her breath catching. Whatever the templars had been doing hear, it wasn't good. She handed the letter to Cullen, her face hardening into a scowl. "Be on alert. They're doing tests on something big. I'm not getting a good feeling about this."

Cullen clenched the paper tightly in his hand. "No, this isn't good," he muttered, glancing at Ser Desjardins and the four remaining Inquisition soldiers. "Archers, be on alert. I want you ready if something happens."

Dorian grinned, leaning against his staff nonchalantly. "Mountains and snow. Must you think _"Let's bring Dorian,"_ all the time Trevelyan?"

"I thought you would enjoy some adventure. Camp can be so dull," replied the Herald, relieved for the light banter. Suledin Keep was not what she expected. The wind whipped around them, howling and whispering. Everything told her to burn the place, leaving it only in ashes. The places was tainted.

Taking a deep breath, she took her first step, then another. She had to lead. She had to be strong, and confident. With her sword in hand, she signaled to continue moving through the keep.

* * *

The more she walked, the colder she felt. The chill in the dungeons was unbearable. Ashiva wished she had worn warmer clothes than the thin velveteen tunic and ram leather hosen. A warm snoufleur cloak would have done wonders to her chilled body. The elf walked behind the Spirit of Justice, leaning heavily on the staff she had found with Connor.

She encountered many people from her past has she trekked through the corridors. Although wounded, she was relieved and walked with less a burden. She was able to help them, give them peace as they crossed to the unknown. Or perhaps it was just peace she was giving herself. The worries, doubts, and burdens she held for decades was slowly lifting from her shoulders. She could move on. She could forgive herself.

The cells were filthier here, blood stained stones guided her through the maze. The smell was near unbearable. Ashiva opened the door to the next hallway, only to be startled by the scene before her.

Light was flickering off the cobblestone pillars from the many candles that were scattered around the larger room. Wooden beams were overhead. The floor was paved in grey stones, red carpets scattered around. Her breath puffed around her face as she exhaled, the winds howling outside the large wooden doors. Deja vu settled over her. She knew this place, been there before. It was the same, with slight differences.

Her reflection knelt in the middle of the sanctuary, arms upraised, praising the figure in front of her. The figure was hidden in shadow, unrecognizable, but she could feel her gut twist as if a knife had cut into her. This wasn't right.

The arrow whipped past her, piercing her doppelganger. Ashiva cried out, clutching her chest, near her heart. It was becoming a struggle to breath.

"Commander, we need to keep moving," Justice stated, moving forward in the room.

The elf couldn't move. She stared helplessly at her image, crumbling to the ground, her tainted blood staining the red carpets around her. She remembered this place. Haven. This was Haven. Why would the demon bring her here?

"Betrayed allies will curse your name," the demon whispered. "You will bring blood and ruin and fear."

"How can you just makes these decisions," Alistair shouted behind her. "All of this death...its on your hands."

"Did you think you would be able to hide what you did from the rest of us," Wynne questioned, stepping beside the warden. "You care so little about your fellow man, that you would destroy the little hope they have."

Ashiva stepped back, startled by their presence. "I don't understand…"

"You destroyed the Grey Wardens, twisting them into abominations," Alistair shouted, gripping his sword tightly. "This isn't what Duncan or Riordan wanted. I should have lead the Wardens, not you."

"Ferelden is in ruins after the death of our queen. You believe your authority would bring peace to our nation? The people hide in fear of your wrath," Wynne added.

It happened all too soon. Ashiva raised her staff, blocking the blade's path towards her. She sidestepped the arcane bolt, moving quickly away from the two. Although she stumbled through the fade with a staff, it was useless in battle. Her magic was gone, as if she was never a mage. She raised her voice, alerting her comrade of the enemy behind them as she avoided Alistair's blade and Wynne's magic.

Justice's sword clashed with Alistair's, sparks of light flying. "Commander, go! You have to keep moving. Its the only way out."

The elven woman moved as fast as her legs would take her through the chantry. The dog statues above the pillars began to erupt around her, green liquid spewing from their mouths. Splatters fell on her skin, burning her. There was no where to go.

"_Over here."_

She turned abruptly, falling into an open doorway. Breathing heavily, her eyes fell on the cage where Cullen stood, his eyes void of any emotion.

"I should have never trusted you," he hissed. "How could I be so naive...I forgot how a mage isn't like the rest of us."

The words cut easily. "Cullen would never say things like that."

"Are you so sure," he raised his eyebrow, amused. "For year he didn't trust mages, displeased nearly everyone that could wield magic. What makes you so sure he still doesn't."

Cullen smirked. "You're nothing but the toy."

"_You're hurting, helpless, hasty. What happens to the hammer when there are no nails?"_

Snarling, the templar raised his blade. "Quiet. I am learning."

She rolled away from the attack, pushing herself up with the assistance of the wall. The voice was distant, echoing off the walls. It sounded familiar, yet strange. "Justice?"

"_No," _the voice answered quietly. _"I can help. Keep fighting."_

She scoffed, sidestepping another attack. The blade brushed her shoulder, pain cutting through her. "Fight? How? I have no magic, nor a blade. I can't keep dodging these attacks with the condition I'm in."

The voice didn't reply, unsettling her. She rushed from the room, avoiding her lover's constant attacks. She could still hear the battle raging on between Justice and Alistair and Wynne. Looking up down the hallway towards the staircase, she saw more figures running, weapons raised. There was no way she was going to get out of here alive.

"Here," the voice stated, a hand extended towards her.

It was a young man, no older than twenty wearing a large hat and leathers. His pale hair covered his eyes, obscuring the light color. He held a dagger in his left hand, watching the enemies come closer wearily.

Mystified, she took the vial in his hand, startled to see the glowing blue liquid. Lyrium. "How...how did you get this?"

"I can to help," the boy repeated. "Hurry. Drink."

"But the veil-my connection to the Fade is gone," Ashiva replied.

The mysterious rogue shook his head. "Think of light."

There was something off about this kid. Almost similar to the dwarf she befriended during the blight, Sandal. The rogue rushed in to the right, deflecting the blow from Cullen. To the left, she saw Justice knocked backward by Alistar's shield. She hated being helpless, like the damsels in the fairytales she read as a child. She was the Commander of the Grey, dammit.

She blinked uncomfortable, looking up at the orb on top of the staff in her left hand. Instead of the bleak wood laying dormant, it blazed with blue fire. She gasped, looking down at her right hand, now holding the glowing sword made out of magic. Her mana had returned.

Closing her eyes, she imagined the battlefield around her. For the past decade she was use to being in the frontlines, parrying and blocking the slashes and attacks of her foes. She grasped the thread of magic she sought, humming the pitch she heard ringing in her ears. "_Accendo_," she whispered, her staff pointing toward the impersonators. "_Mundabunt terram._"

The swirling column of fire quenched the ground, the doppelgangers of Alistair and Wynne disappearing in the inferno. With a quick flick of her wrist, Cullen was frozen in place, a prison of white light surrounding him.

"Commander, we need to keep moving forward. Its not much farther," Justice shouted, moving past her.

She looked around, alarmed that the boy was no longer there. "Wait. What about the boy?"

The spirit looked agitated, pausing in its movements. "What boy? There is no time, Warden commander. Envy has weakened. I sense the mortal realm not far."

Ashiva pushed forward at those words. There was a chance she would escape her own nightmare. She could return home. She rushed through the corridor, pushing enemies back with her mind blast. Her magic was growing more and more, the magic slowly cleansing her broken body.

She hesitated at the sight of the wooden door with iron accents. It remained shut, the sounds of battle behind her. The mage brushed her hand along the wooden grains. How had she gotten to the top of Fort Drakon. She could imagine the heat emitting from the surface, the screams of the archdemon piercing her sensitive ears. She closed her eyes, calming herself. This was it. Opening the door would give her the freedom she sought from this nightmare. Yelping in surprise, Ashiva is thrown against the door, her face pressed against the door.

"Unfair! Unfair! That _thing_ kept you whole. Kept you from giving me everything," Shouted the demon mimicking her voice as it pressed her against the wooden surface.

"What could you gain from being me?

"What could you gain?...What...ugh," It mumbled, as if thinking aloud brushing the hair from her forehead. Her head felt as if it were on fire, slowly being erased. "We'll start again. You continue to weaken each time. That's good. More pain this time. The Elder One still comes."

She heard a large shout before she crumbled to the ground, a large clash of metal against metal. The elf opened her eyes, startled to see herself on the ground, blocking attacks from Justice. Her doppelganger screamed, scratching at the helmet.

"Commander, you need to go now," Justice shouted, punching the demon.

Ashiva struggled to sit up, leaning heavily against the door. "What about you? What will happen to you?"

"In war, victory. In peace, vigilance. In death…"

"Sacrifice," she gasped, tilting her head to the side. The boy from earlier sat next to her, his eyes hidden behind the large hat. "Justice can't."

"The spirit admires you. Your strength and kindness. He seeks only to help you in your time of need," the boy answered, standing up. He pushed the door slightly, lighting beaming from the crack. "Its time to return, Commander."

She watched the battle between the spirit and the demon. Her friend was fighting for her, protecting her from the madness she had been in for so long. Taking a deep breath, she struggled to stand, taking in her surrounding once more. "And should you perish my brother, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten, and one day, we shall join you."

Ashiva turned, pushed the door open with all her might, the light beyond brighter than the sun. She pushed forward, not turning back.

* * *

**A/N:** Latin translation from Google Translate.

_Accendo: _"inflame, kindle, light, ignite, fire, set on fire"

_Mundabunt terram: _"cleanse the earth"


	8. Chapter 8

May the Maker Watch Over You

Chapter 8

A/N: I want to thank everyone that has favorite, followed or reviewed this story. It means so much that you are enjoying this story as much as I am writing it! I hope you continue to enjoy it as the story progresses. I also wanted to inform all of you that updates to this story may slow down. I am currently in the process of moving states and moving jobs. This is a big transition time in my life and will have little time on a computer. The story will continue though!

Disclaimer: The characters and world of Thedas does not belong to me. They belong to Bioware.

* * *

"Dammit, how many damn giants can you have," Evelyn shouted, rolling away from the giant's massive swipe. She was exhausted, her shield arm crippled from another giant swung his arm against her shield, causing her to fly back. Blackwall was beside her, slashing at the monster's legs, while Cullen and Alistair were occupied with Red Templars. Cole was no where in sight, and had been missing since the first giant encounter. She could hear Ser Desjardins in the distance yelling at his men. "Shoot the eye! Shoot the eye!"

This was crazy. She knew it. Why hadn't she brought a fleet? Why did she let half of her men go to defend the village? She spat at the ground, grimacing at the blood that lay in the white snow. How much more could she take before she fell into the abyss? How much more could her men take?

Flipping the sword in her hand, she eyed the creature carefully. It was weakening, every step becoming shaky. The animal's roar was higher pitched, wailing in pain. The right leg dragged behind the giant, moving towards her. They needed to make the creature fall, where it would be easier to pierce the spinal cord, ending its pain.

"Blackwall, to the left," she ordered, swinging her sword to glimmer in the light. She would be a decoy, distracting the giant as the warden weakened it.

The corrupted monster screamed, arms swinging left and right, feeling around its face. Evelyn saw the arrow, piercing the eye. Someone had finally hit the damn eye. It was time to move. She lunged forward, holding her blade in both hands, pierced the flesh of the left leg, blood pouring out of the wound. Twisting, the blade, it continued to deepen into the flesh. The brunette took a step back, stumbling onto the ground, her blade dropping from her hands.

"Inquisitor!"

The giant was falling backwards towards her. The Inquisitor tried to roll away but the giant was bigger, and falling fast. She closed her eyes, knowing she should mutter a prayer, but not knowing what to say. Thanks for the life she had, or perhaps a prayer for those she would leave behind? Didn't she still have something she had to do?

A chill went down her spine, cold like the wintertime breeze on top the Frostback Mountains, a thunderous sound of something falling to the ground. Her impending doom was upon her, but nothing happened. Evelyn felt no pain, heard no sound. Did time slow around her? Is this how the last moments of life were-slow and stretching, like the chewy sweet candy pastry chefs made in their tiny businesses in Ostwick. She squinted, startled to see white clouds of snow around her. Was this the fade?

Heavy breathing next to her made her rethink her hypothesis, turning to her left she saw the giant dead, blood seeping into the white snow. How did she survive? Evelyn recalled the last few moments, the sight of the monster falling and the chill that went down her spine. It resembled magic. Shifting her head to the right, she saw an elven woman beside her, laying in the snow. Her hair was dark like the night, braided behind her back neatly. Her eyes were closed, her skin pale. Her clothing was thin, fit for hot summers or the dessert. The thought crossed Evelyn's mind. Could this really be whom she thought?

The Inquisitor shook her head in disbelief. "Ash...Are you Warden-Commander Surana?"

The mage opened her eyes, golden eyes lowered in thought, pushing herself into a sitting position. "I am. Who are you?"

"Lady Trevelyan," Blackwall yelled, moving towards them. The cloud of snow had dissipated, the small crowd becoming visible. He kneeled next to her, grasping her by the shoulders. "Are you hurt?"

Evelyn looked around, still in shock from the last few minutes. Dorian was running towards them, his face in disbelief. Alistair had looked up from his work looting the templar bodies, his eyes resting on the elf next to her. Cullen was speaking to his men, his words hushed.

"No," she finally answered, smiling at the warden. "No, I'm fine. Just a few scratches."

Blackwall exhaled, muttering under his breath.

Dorian knelled next to her, assessing her injuries, clicking his tongue in aggravation. "I know this is only going to go on deaf ears, but please don't do that again. I'm no Spirit Healer and can't continue to waste my precious mana on your reckless behavior."

The noblewoman smiled. "But I thought that was apart of my job description, doing miraculous things," she stated, looking back at the elven woman. "I am Evelyn Trevelyan, and I am with the Inquisition. We came to find you, Lady Surana."

"I see," Ashiva murmured thoughtfully, looking off to the ruined walls. She struggled to stand, dusting the snow from her velveteen tunic. "Well, here I am. I was able to escape from my prison thanks to your distraction. I was trying to find the demon that had me captive here when I found you."

"You mean Ismael," Alistair offered, stepping up to pull Ashiva in an embrace. "It's good to have you back, Commander."

Evelyn pulled the healing potion from her pouch. Drinking the vial, she gagged at the medicinal taste. The tingling sensation continued through her body. The painful throbbing in her arm was not dulling. "You know where this demon might be? This place is pretty massive."

"The place is overrun by red templars," the Warden-Commander informed. "But from what I gathered he is at the top of the keep. He already knows you're here."

"Ashiva?"

Ashiva looked past the small group in front of her, startled by the man in the lion armor and fur. She stumbled towards him, her golden eyes glowing. "Cullen? What are you-"

"Thank the Maker," he interrupted, pulling her to him. "I thought I lost you."

The elf smiled in the embrace. "Hey, I'm hard to kill."

Evelyn smirked, moving to grab her blade from the blood soaked snow. She inspected it carefully before sheathing it. She looked over her shoulder. The Commander held the Warden in a tight embrace, his lips brushing her forehead. If she hadn't been observing the couple, she wouldn't have noticed Cullen's mouth twist and eyes lower as if he had found his enemy. Her gut churned, remembering that similar gaze when Haven was under attack by the Templars.

"Commander, are we ready to proceed," the Inquisitor asked, standing rigidly, waiting for Cullen to speak up. He remained silent, pulling away from his wife. He nodded his head towards her, his determined gaze remained on the elf, his sword hand perched on his blade.

She twisted her blade in her hand, a roguish smile on her lips. She would speak to him later, when they weren't head deep in giants and red templars. "Good. I'd hate to keep Ishmael waiting."

* * *

"Commander, wake up," she heard faintly, the voice panicked. "Dammit, Ashiva, wake up!"

She gasped for air as if she had been underwater for too long. The metallic taste of lyrium was still on her tongue, grounding her. She squinted in the late afternoon light. The mage couldn't remember the last time she had seen daylight. It was blinding for her sensitive eyes, giving her a mild headache. Shakily, she felt the ground around her. Cold and wet, stone floors covered in snow. Somehow she had gotten outside, but how?

Pausing in her investigation the elven Mage pondered how she gotten to a place filled with snow. She remembered the fade and Envy. Her friend, Justice had defended and guided her out of the nightmarish prison. Ashiva thought she could remember another, but the thought was being pulled from her.

"Here, drink," the soft-spoken voice offered a flask carefully placed in her trembling hands.

She didn't question, taking small sips of the chilled liquid. Ashiva was grateful, the precious water flowing through her parched throat. She glanced around her, catching the glimpse of the familiar shoulder length dark hair and olive colored face. The leather armor was different, lighter than the blue armor he normally wore. "Nathaniel?"

The rouge sighed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear. "Thank the Maker," mumbled Nathaniel. "I found you in the snow alone. I thought you were dead."

"Snow," she repeated, clenching her fist in the white powder. "I don't understand. I thought we were in the Western Approach."

"You don't remember?"

Ashiva shook her head. "I remember the Fade. Justice was there and...another. I can't remember who it was," She pressed her hand to her temple. "I remember red crystals. They were everywhere in the dark, glowing...singing. It wouldn't stop."

"I see," Nathaniel replied, frowning. He looked around him. "We were in the Western Approach when we were ambushed by Wardens. They separated me from you, left me in a cell. The Inquisition found me, but you were nowhere to be seen. The spymaster found something that leaded the Inquisition here. I followed behind them."

"And where is here," she asked. She was not familiar with the worn stone towers covered in arbor vines and large trees that stretched above her.

"Suledin Keep. It's an ancient Elven fort. The red templars took you here," he explained. He glanced at her, his brown eyes discernible. "I don't know what they done to you, Ash, but it doesn't look good. Are you able to heal yourself so we can move?"

With assistance, she moved to lean her back against the stonewall, hissing. The pain was unbearable. She could only remember one other time she felt like this, on top of Fort Drakon. Her body had crumbled under the monster's body; every breath had felt like inhaling fire. Assessing her situation, she knew she had broken ribs and her left leg although almost healed, had been set improperly. It would have to broken and reset. She saw jagged cuts along her arms and legs. Overall, she would live. Closing her eyes she whispered healing enchantments, relieved to feel the cuts close over, her ribs mending to become bearable.

She opened her eyes, her mind clearing from the fog. Hesitatingly, she pushed herself to her feet. "I'm going to need a weapon, preferably a staff to lean on. My leg isn't something I should be putting my full weight on. I'm also going to need some light armor, maybe some warmer clothes."

Nathaniel nodded, cocking an arrow into his bow. "Clothing and armor should be easy enough with how many damn templars are around. The staff may be the challenge. Think you can handle a blade instead?"

Ashiva glanced at the rogue, a smile tugging on her lips. "You do know who you're talking to, right?"

Nathaniel chuckled, assisting the elf to stand. "I think I am the one who is in the lead. What was it now- 18 to 20?"

""She was their enemy the whole time, but she made them forget, watching them like a predator after prey."

Ashiva jumped, fire materializing in her hand. Nathaniel stood slightly behind her, arrow aimed at the intruder. A few feet away, a pale boy stood, one arm full of dark material and metal armor the other a pike. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came to mind. She _knew_ this person, but where?

"Who are you," Nathaniel demanded.

The leather armor the boy wore reminded her of Orlesian scouts. The large hat, caught her attention, reminding her of the Fade. She lowered her arm, extinguishing the magic with discomfort. "Do I know you?"

"I came to help," the boy said.

"You were there, in the Fade with me," the elf thought out loud, signaling to Nathaniel to drop his weapon. "Did you also help me out of the cell?"

"_She knows they're going to kill her, can only push back towards the light, _" he murmurs, offering the clothing and weapon. "Here, I found clothes and armor. We need to be quick. The templars are coming and _it _has your Lion."

The Mage gaped at the assassin, nearly losing her balance. She had rarely called him her Lion, but she always enjoyed him flustered, looking at her with pleading eyes. "_Must you insist to call me the name of a large cat?"_

_"Would you rather me call you pookie bear?"_

_"No, not really."_

The elven warrior exhaled, her legs shaking from overuse. She remembered the golden armor she had made for the Templar before she had disappeared on her journey the helmet shaped like the feline's head, the red lion fur from the animal they had fought in the Frostback Mountains. Closing her eyes, she could almost remember his comforting warmth and a smile that could brighten any blizzard in the mountains.

"Cullen," she whispered to herself. She looked up, her Amber eyes looking over the boy. "Cullen is here?"


	9. Chapter 9

Maker Watch Over You

Chapter 9

A/N: Thank you to everyone that have read, reviewed, followed and favorited this story. I apologize for the long wait. I have been busy moving from one side of the country to the other, completing my masters and adjusting to a new job. As I am starting to get my life back in order, I believe I will be able to continue writing this story, as well as continue to write Divided Lineage. Thank you so much for your continued patience and support!

* * *

Everything stunk. The smell of rotten fish was so bad, the elf could taste it with every breath she took. The taste at the back of her throat she couldn't get rid of annoyed her. She drank the spiced _mavash _greedily to no avail. The taste remained at the back of her throat even if she coughed or spit.

"_Fenedhis_," she cursed, tucking the blonde hair behind her pointed ear in frustration.

Her companion, who seemed to be immune to the smell, continued to chew enthusiastically on the bronto steak kabob. Her eyebrows lowered, the Legion of the Dead tattoos crinkling before she turned her head towards the Marabi that laid at their feet panting. "It can't be that bad, Velanna. He could smell like darkspawn corpses."

Growling, Velanna glared at the overgrown mutt. "I can't comprehend why the Commander puts up with you. What made you think we needed rotten fish?"

The Marabi whined, pawing his nose, as if he were ashamed.

The dwarven woman shrugged, taking another bite. "You have complained that Dog hasn't put any effort in providing meals."

"That doesn't mean he should parade around this shit hole and roll in fish, Sigrun," grumbled the elf, taking another drink of the Dalish ale.

Sigrun smiled, waving the stick full of meat around. "We could go to the docks, give him a bath."

Cringing, Velanna turned her head from the table. "Stop waving that thing! You're going to make me sick."

Frowning, the dwarf took another bite, humming happily. "I don't understand your dislike of red meat, Vel. It's delicious compared to deep lurkers!" Sigrun continued to eat, oblivious to the Dalish Mage disdainful glare. "Geoffrey, the innkeeper, gave me a letter today."

"A letter?"

The three had left Amaranthine eight months ago to investigate the unusual darkspawn activity in the Free Marches. They had stayed in Kirkwall, a torn city that had collapsed on itself. The streets were nearly deserted. The once busy market in High Town had few vendors and stray nugs running through the abandoned streets. It was unnerving. Keeping to themselves in the once infamous Hanged Man, the Grey Wardens continued their work, all the while hoping to hear something from their leader.

Sigrun slide the document across the table. "I think it's from her. I couldn't read it...I think it's that code you were teaching her."

The Ferelden Warden-Commander, Ashiva had left in the spring with Nathaniel, looking for the cure to the taint. Information she had stumbled upon nearly eight years after the Blight, plus others she had collected from her journeys finally gave her the urge to move.

Opening the letter, Velanna scoffed at the ancient Eluvan text. "Her grammar is horrendous still, but it's her."

Silently, she read the ancient words of her people. Her friendship with the Commander had grown over the years. Although she didn't necessarily trust people outside of her tribe, Ashiva had earned hers. The tower Mage had little memory of her origins, retelling her earliest memory of lying in the grass tracing the constellations with her finger. Velanna had taken it as a sign of her Dalish heritage, teaching her what she knew.

"What does it say?"

Sigrun sat, kicking the large chair impatiently with her legs. Velanna twisted her index finger, the parchment instantly in flames. The elf glanced at the dwarf, calculating. Could it really be true?

"She found it," whispered Velanna.

Sigrun jumped up in her chair. "By the stone, seriously," she shouted. The dwarf laughed, jumping in her seat. She accidentally kicked the table, the ale spilling onto the rough wooden surface.

Velanna kept her composure, a thought unsettling her confirmation. While Ashiva's grammar had been choppy and irregular, unnecessary tweaks of letters confused the meaning behind words. She had corrected these mistakes before with the Commander. It had been years since the black-haired elf had made this mistake. Perhaps her time with the shemlen had made her forget the sacred language.

"Vel, you should be rejoicing," commented Sigrun, her smile broad. "A cure means you can go back and join the Dalish. You always talked about returning home."

_Home. _The word sounded odd to her sensitive ears. Velanna couldn't deny the urge to return to her elven heritage, but she had been a Grey Warden for a decade. Could she really return the the Dalish?

Lifting her mug, she forced a smile on her lips, the feeling foreign to her usual scowl. "I believe we are returning to Vigil faster than we expected. To a cure."

Sigrun classed her full mug against the elf's, the ale spilling over the edge of the wooden container. "To the Grey Wardens."

* * *

Hobbling with her makeshift brace and dull pole spear, the Warden-Commander of Ferelden knew she was nearing her limit. Her body was deteriorating rapidly with each encounter they had with the red templars. Not to mention the weight of the extra clothing and bulky armor made walking and fighting even more of a struggle. Her body crumbling with each step, but her spirit was wearing down at a faster, like aged limestone under extreme weather. The magic Ashiva was blessed and cursed with as a child was killing her from the inside. She clutched her chest, the burning sensation consuming her with every intake of air.

"The Red is consuming you," softly explained the boy next to her. She was beginning to understand that there was more to this white haired teen. His pretense was comforting and familiar like a warm blanket and fire in the middle of winter. She had once thought that Justice's I merging with the corpse of a Grey Warden had been a rare and unusual occurrence. Walking beside Cole, Ashiva began to think perhaps spirits and mortals were not as far apart as the circle once told her.

Painfully, she coughed, struggling in the Templar armor to cover her mouth. It was stiffer than the blue Grey Warden armor she commonly wore, but it was better than the thin shirt and pants she had woken in. Ashiva cursed silently, staring at the blood splattered on the metal gauntlets.

"My magic is killing me," it was neither a statement nor a question. She halted from her march towards the tallest tower in Suledin Keep. The elf didn't need to see Cole's hat tilt downward, but she did anyway. Ashiva could feel the Fade around her, crushing her. Chuckling, she lowered herself to the snow covered stone path. "And I had always thought it would be the taint that killed me."

"The taint makes it sing. Magic makes it stronger," murmured the spirit boy, continuing his trek. He moved away from her, taking the cobbled staircase.

Nathaniel crouched next to her. With remorse, she grasped her comrade's hand in hers, fighting back her fears. They had been through so much together in the past decade. Though their friendship had begun with him trying to assassinate her, she had set him free. In her youth, she had pitied him, alone trying desperately to regain his family's honor. He had later found her along the countryside and insisted on joining their cause. Since then, she had relied on his hunting and subterfuge skills. Out of all her wardens, she trusted him the most to lead the Fereldan wardens in her stead.

She wistfully looked at her friend, his brown eyes unreadable and lips curled in determination. "You know you're my first choice as my predecessor, right," she humorlessly commented. "Alistair is compelled through emotion, Oghren has family commitments, Velanna would burn Vigil and Sigrun runs at the word politics."

"Stop babbling," grumbled the marksman, pulling her up and wrapping her arm around his shoulders. He took most of her weight, marching them forward again. "You're not leaving me now Commander with your damn messes."

She chuckled, flinching at the pressure on her injured leg. The brace wasn't going to hold much longer. "Believe me, I wouldn't dare dream leaving you with my messes. Your such a clean freak," breathlessly she replied. Somberly, she looked up at the tower. It seemed so far away. She wanted to rest. She needed to rest. "Also do me a favor, if I don't make it out of this, tell Cullen I died honorably in some battle, not by my own magic. Maker knows he doesn't need to hear that now after everything he's been through."

Her love had been through enough, she thought. First he had been imprisoned by blood magic, tempted by a desire demon. It had changed him forever, his trust for mages ceasing. She remembered his words clearly to her as she had tried to console him. After the Blight, she had returned to the Circle, hoping to see him. She had learned later he had been transferred to Kirkwall after his short recovery. Kirkwall had not been kind either. Conflict between mages and templars escalated in the streets and finally destroyed the refugee town. The chantry had fallen and war between the two sects had been brutal with many casualties on both sides as well as the innocents that happened to unlucky.

Nathaniel grunted. "Are you done now," he asked dryly. She silently nodded, too spent to talk any more about the issue. He sighed. "Good, now keep moving, we're almost to the top. And no more magic, even if we encounter more enemies. Let me handle it."

* * *

After traveling from Denerim yesterday and patrolling Vigil's battlements throughout the night, Oghren cursed aloud when he was disturbed from his slumber by a young page. The boy was no older than twelve. The lantern he held flickered rapidly in the boy's shaking hands.

"Well, go on boy. What'd ya need," he grumbled, scratching his red beard.

"Uh...ser," stuttered the boy, anxiously looking for an escape. "The seneschal said it was urgent. He said he needed you at the pinnacle at once."

With a grunt, the dwarf righted himself on the hard bed. After spending a week with his wife, Felsi and their son, Ash, he had missed the musky smell and company of the Warden barracks. As much as he loved his family, home was here where there were battles and fights on a whims notice.

The page had excused himself in a hurry, leaving the door open. Bright afternoon light flooded into his room. With another silent curse, the warrior pulled on his breeches, boots, shirt and armor before making his way through the courtyard. People from the Silver Order and Grey Wardens were running each way, yelling nonsensical things. Oghren continued his trek to the keep, taking the steps to the top, feeling winded from the endless stairs.

Seneschal Garvel leaned against the walls, focused on using the field glass in his possession while Mistress Argent paced back and forth behind him. She noticed the dwarf first, looking relieved after seeing the him. "Warden Oghren, thank the Maker you're awake."

"Let me guess, more rebel mages," speculated Oghren, moving to stand next to the swordsman.

"Worse," Garvel replied.

Mistress Argent sighed, squinting out in the distance. "They have armor, is that...templars?"

Shaking his head, Oghren fought to say something to the woman. She had recently been assigned to Vigil's by the First Warden after Mistress Woolsey had retired. She was young and book-smart but not a person made in the heat of battle. Argent chewed on her bottom lip nervously, returning to her insistent pacing.

Garvel lowered the field glass, handing it to the dwarf. "If I'm not mistaken, its Wardens."

"Wardens," squeaked the Mistress.

Oghren peered into the glass, focusing on the marching forces. The banners were blue, a silver griffon glistening in the light. The armor was familiar, the standard issued warden armor. At the back of his mind though, something bothered him. Beside the supposed wardens, globs of black and greenish grey lingered beside them. There were few warriors among them as well. Mages walked with their heads low, their feet dragging on the ground.

"Wardens," he agreed, looking at the two of them. "Have we heard anything from Weisshault?"

"No," Argent said, licking her lips. "I haven't heard from Weisshault since I arrived."

Seneschal Garvel shook his head. "What could this mean?"

Oghren tried to imagine what Warden-Commander Surana would do in this situation. Unannounced visits from Wardens were commonplace, but army marching towards them was something else. He had heard rumors of the Orlais Wardens falling to dark measures, but knew not what that entailed. Alistair had left before the first snow to speak to the Orlais Warden-Commander, but he had heard nothing except that a warden had been hunted in Crestwood. It made him suspicious of this visit.

"I'd say prepare for the worst. We'll know soon enough what the bloody nug-lickers want," he directed. "Mistress Argent, sound the bells. Garvel, prepare the troops. I want the men ready to play with fire."

* * *

A/N: Personally, I loved Awakening. Although short, you got interesting characters, new terrain to explore and a story-line that left you questioning. Since The Warden-Commander is in this story, the other Wardens at Vigil's keep story will be seen as well.


	10. Chapter 10

**May the Maker Watch Over You**

**Chapter 10**

**Inspiration:** Battle at Helm's Deep from Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, arsenic and ricin poisoning, poems and spells, Latin language, Dragon Age: Awakening, What We Choose by Crisium

**A/N:** When I started writing this chapter, I honestly didn't think it would get this long. After writing it, I though I would split it into two chapters, but thought it really wouldn't work out…so instead we get a really long chapter. Lots of things happen and I am really pleased with the outcome of this chapter. I just want to thank all everyone that has been reading, following, favoriting, and reviewing. I hope you continue to like this story as I have grown quite attached to these characters and have plans to write some other stories concerning them. If you are interested, I will be posting a new story about Ashiva during and after the Fifth Blight in a few weeks.

Be sure to let me know what you think and review after reading this chapter! Thanks again and enjoy!

* * *

_This wasn't what she expected when she stepped into the warden prison. She really couldn't remember what she had thought she would find. The air was heavy and smelt of burnt wood and mold. The veil was thin in the dark cavern. The taste of lyrium tickled the back of her throat, making her clench her jaw, and wake with night terrors._

_Laying on her bedroll, Ashiva looked above her into the vast darkness. The lyrium all around her made her head and muscles ached from the fight to stay in control. The water dripping in the distance, mice rustling on loose pebbles and the faint conversation near the campfire kept her from drifting into the abyss. _

_She shifted to lay on her side, lifting the coin in her hand to reflect the fire. The elf smiled, rubbing the smooth edges. Before departing for the decrepit prison, Cullen had pulled her aside, uncertainty etched in the creases in his forehead. She had noticed how he clutched his sword as they traveled the desert. He could sense it too, the strong pull of the fade. He took her hand in his, placing the coin in hers._

"_For luck," he had whispered, pulling away from her to assist his men with the camp. He kept his stance professional, like a templar speaking with a senior enchanter. Even though their worlds collided, Cullen was still a templar, just as she was still a mage. _

_Ashiva clutched the coin tightly. She knew that false wall was slowly crumbling around them. It had been crumbling since she found him years ago in Kirkwall during the Qunari raid. The letters and fleeting visits had created a bond between them. She couldn't imagine going back to the way it was before. The regrets they both held had led them to being near strangers._

_The elf knew her affections towards the man were strong. She always cared for him. Even as a young apprentice, she noticed him on one side of the chantry as she sat on the other. Now that she had grown to know him, to be close to him, she only wanted more. She wondered if he felt the same._

_He had come to her aid in Kirkwall as well as on the trail through the Vinmark Mountains, giving her reason to believe that perhaps he had feelings towards her. She noticed his smiles were lighter when she told him stories by the fireside, and how his gaze lingered on her as she moved through the camp. _

_Although no words had been spoken, the elven mage was willing to risk it for Cullen. She wanted to break down the walls they had built because of their stature in their lives. Ashiva had come to the conclusion that she wanted Cullen, no matter the cost._

_Movement beside her bedroll alerted her, rapidly tucking the coin back into her breast pouch. She twisted her head around to look behind her, sighing in aggravation before turning to fully look at the young warden mage. "What is is Ben?"_

_She came across Ben in Denerim, stealing food from one of the carts. Seeing his potential when he attacked her with lightning, she had offered him a chance join the wardens. He was young, messy brown hair falling in his eyes. He shifted his eyes to the left and the right, as if trying to find someone else to speak to her. "Uh-Commander, Oghren sent me. He said there was something he wanted you to see."_

_Knitting her dark brows together, she pushed herself up, muttering to younger Warden to give her a moment to put the rest of her armor back on. She messed with the straps of her armor, sheathed her dagger onto her boot, grabbed her pouch of elfroot and lyrium potions and finally clenched spellweaver into her hand. Ashiva had learned that it was better to be prepared for the worse._

_Oghren wasn't far outside of camp, leaning against his axe. The dwarf had changed since becoming a hero in Vigil's Keep during the darkspawn siege. He had grown confidence in his skills, taking a more leading role in training new recruits. Although he still liked to drink, Ashiva had made a point of letting the bartenders around the Keep and Amaranthine to limit the dwarf's drinking. He looked up at her, the shadows marking his face appeared grim._

_The elf raised an eyebrow. "You needed me."_

_The berserker shrugged. "The nug-licker couldn't make a proper torch flame. Thought you could teach him a thing or two."_

_Rolling her eyes, she whispered the short enchantment. Green flames roared to life on Oghren's torch along with five other wardens standing around them. "Was that really why you needed me? You could have asked another mage to do that."  
_

"_Well, that was one reason," Oghren commented. "There's something else too. Thought you might want to see it for yourself."_

_The past two days, she had seen more than she ever wanted to see again. Dispelled magic cells that held demon corpses, darkspawn, and documents that gave her a glimpse of just what the place was used for. It made her stomach twist. Then there had also been the insistent whispers, temptations and promises that ringed in the back of her head. Flicking her wrist, she summoned a light wisp and followed the dwarf silently._

_Spellweaver glowed by her side, reflecting the blood red stonewalls around them. They had traveled far from camp, deep into the center of the prison. The magic around her was stronger, almost suffocating. The elven mage was in a haze, overwhelmed by the power she felt._

"_Is this...lyrium," she asked, bewildered as she looked around her._

"_Doesn't look like it," Oghren stated beside her. "But the stone, the song is a lot like Isana."_

"_It's growing in the walls," Ashiva said, astounded looking up at the endless ceiling above her. _

"_Aye," Oghren agreed. "This stuff isn't natural."_

"_What is it though," she whispered, her fingers lingering near the red crystals. She felt her mana slipping from her lingering near the rock structures. The humming reminded her of something._

_Pulling her hand from the crystal, Oghren chided. "Careful Commander, if this is lyrium, it could kill you. Mages and lyrium don't mix."_

"_Lyrium...red lyrium," she mused. "I think I heard about something like this before. Someone had found it in the deep roads years ago."_

"_Yeah, made tons of silver from it. From what I remember, it was a dwarf and the Hawke siblings," Oghren added, looking up at her. "Do you hear it?"_

_She stopped, closing her eyes. She was familiar with the sound of lyrium, humming that could lull her to sleep like a lullaby. Ashiva could hear it ringing in her ears, but something was different._

"_Somethins' not right," Oghren explained. "Reminds me of somethin' my mother once said. 'Eat a live rat first thing in the morning and nothing worse can happen to you for the rest of the day.'"_

_Ashiva raised an eyebrow. "What does that have to do with this?"_

"_Nothin' really," he said nonchalantly, stepping away from the red stalactite. "This looks like singing stone, Commander, but something isn't right. Its like its sick or something."_

"_Sick lyrium," She looked up at the cavern, the crystals growing in the darkness towards the source at the top of the tower. "What is making it sick?"_

_Oghren grunted, waving behind her. "Don't know, but whatever it is, I think we'll find it at the top. The nug-licker here thinks it's growing from it."_

_Ashiva glanced at the young mage behind her. Ben shifted anxiously. "What makes you think that."_

_The mage pointed at the large crystals near the center of the cavern. "Studying crystal growth ma'am," he stated. "the growth here suggest that the source is coming from above." _

_Ashiva chewed her bottom lip, she opened her pouch where she kept Bethany's hand drawn map. "Bethany never mentioned this portion of the prison."_

_Tori, a former templar that had become sick when the darkspawn raided Amaranthine, rolled her eyes. Although thankful and loyal to her post in the Grey Wardens, the woman had little trust in mages. "Maybe the Mage forgot to mention it. She is friends with that dwarf."_

_Ashiva glared at Tori, disliking the insinuation. "If Bethany saw this, she would have told me."_

_"Perhaps this isn't the route she took," another warden, Varvin, suggested questioningly. Varvin had been an elven merchant and had survived the darkspawn siege. He had been infected with the taint after he had been struck on his leg. He was only days from dying when she had returned from the Dragonbone Wastes, insisting to take part in the joining. _

_She considered it, her eyes glazing over the map critically. "Perhaps," she said, slowly. She glanced at the six wardens, all from different backgrounds. Tori, a formal templar. Varvin, an elven merchant. Oghren a dishonored dwarf. Ben, a orphaned child on the streets. Rawley, a retired knight from the Queen's army. Fennar, a Dalish hunter injured by darkspawn as she was on a hunt. Each of them were so different, yet under her command. They trusted her. She couldn't fail them. _

_Conjuring a wisp, it moved ahead of the small company. "Let's keep going. I think we might see something up ahead."_

* * *

Since his eyes laid on the ebony haired elf, he knew something was wrong. The familiar smell of lyrium, cinnamon, and pine had been replaced with smoke and the fade. Her smiles were her own, her eyes glistening in devotion. To what, he did not know. He knew it wasn't for him though.

Cullen watched his wife speak to Warden Alistair. The Inquisitor had halted their march through the ruins to investigated with a select few in the small corridors. Alistair had been distracted on an earlier scrimmage, tearing a ligament in his shoulder. The Mage was chiding him, her hand glowing softly, a healing spell.

The Commander clenched his teeth. He wanted to smite the doppelgänger and demand answers to where _his _Ashiva was. His that was terrible at healing spells. His that smelt of lyrium, elf root and lavender.

He clutched the wall behind him, the ruins spinning around him. His head pounded, the lyrium addiction crumbling him. The ex-Templar murmured a prayer. He would not be hindered now when he was needed. Not when Ashiva was Maker knows where.

"Commander Cullen?"

Cullen opened his eyes lifting his head to look at the Inquisitor. Her arm had been bandage, but required time to heal still. She shivered in her thin wool cloak, the weather gradually getting worse. She looked at him curiously.

He picked himself up from the ground. "Ready when you are Inquisitor," he replied.

"Is everything alright," she asked, her head tilting towards Ashiva.

He was wary to tell his suspicions that the woman that was his wife was not. At the moment he had the upper hand on the look-alike. Cullen forced smile at the golden eyed elf looking at him. "Never better, Evelyn."

Ashiva moved towards them, her pale lips twitching into a hesitant smile. "The demon isn't far now, Inquisitor. Just behind these doors here."

Cullen didn't listen to the Ostwick warrior's reply. He kept his gaze on the demon before him.

Thunder roared above them, rain pattering on the silverite armor they wore. The rain though was the least of their concerns. The chaos of battle had begun at nightfall, wardens fighting against wardens. The Ferelden Wardens had prepared the best they could with the limited time they had. They secured the women and children in the Great Hall, barricaded the lower gates and stationed archers ready at the ramparts.

Oghren swung his axe wildly, catching the demon's limb before he pushed the creature from the tower with his boot. He grumbled under his breath, his thoughts going back to a battle similar to this nearly a decade before. The only difference was it had been darkspawn that roamed the lower gates, not brothers-in-arms.

He wiped the rain from his eyes, scanning the grounds below. Two pride demons pawed at the heavy wooden gates. They had already opened enough for the wardens to move through one at a time. The Silver order was vigilant, slashing at the wardens as they came through. More ladders fought to hook onto the ramparts. The Fereldan mages conjured grease fires down the wooden steps. The smoke made the battle hard to seen from his vantage, making him swear under his breath.

Garvel stood behind him, his sword blocking the green fade creature's swing. "We need to pull back and regroup before they make it through the lower courtyards."

Oghren sneered. "Asschaps, I'm not loosing Vigil's Keep to these sissy twinkle fingers and their mindless friends."

"If we wait any longer to move, we might lose everything," Garvel shouted

The dwarf stopped, his eyes tearing up from the smoke that was nearly suffocating him. It was too much like before. Ashiva was not present to issue orders as an army marched through their ranks. He could hear the shouting from below; the pride demons had broken the doors, sweeping the men left and right with their arms.

"Get the mages and the former templar wardens to take down those demons and get the damn archers covering our retreat through market. We'll regroup there," Oghren ordered. "And find me Dworkin and get those catapults running."

* * *

"_Ogre! Ogre," she screamed, taking cover from the massive rock the darkspawn had thrown. Ashiva could hear Oghren cackled uncontrollably not far from her position, hacking at the creatures with his axe. She peeked a glance at the dwarf, her anxiety escalating at the dwarf's tactics taunting the hurlock walking towards him. With a flick of her hand, she released the cold spell, chilling the darkspawn surrounding Oghren. _

_Pushing herself upright, she pointed her sword upwards, concentrating on the electrical charge surrounding her before releasing it towards the orge. The monster grunted, beady black eyes looking at her. The elf stared back intently, pointing her sword towards the giant, preparing to strike._

_She could feel the hair on the back of her neck stand upright and the tingling in her skin. Holding the energy storm was becoming painful, but she refused to release it. Not until the right moment, the ogre charging towards her. _

"_Fulmina velox , diu fulmen," she whispered, feeling the air charge around her. "Eam tandem recepto robore."_

_Lighting exploded around them, the Wardens dropping to the ground for cover. The darkspawn screeched and screamed, scrambling to find shelter or to run. The ogre dropped to its knees, clawing at its face. The spell was stronger than usual, the lightning storm encompassing the entire cavern in bright white light. The red crystals above them glowed even brighter, as if absorbing the power._

_Ashiva dropped her head to the stone floor, murmuring a prayer to the Maker. A thin sheet of sweat covered her body. The mage was familiar with the effects raw lyrium had on mages. This however, was stronger._

_A hand patted her back strongly, giving her reason to tilt her head to look at her longtime friend. Oghren stared at her, his expression unreadable._

"_You okay boss," he asked, looking around the small company that was beginning to form around them. It would only be a matter of time before the group noticed that she was compromised. _

_Shakily, she lifted herself from the ground, her eyes lingering on the red crystals that still glowed in the dark cavern. "Yeah," she replied, wiping her forehead with a handkerchief. Ashiva wouldn't go back to camp. Not until she knew the cause of this poisoned lyrium. "Let's keep moving."_

* * *

"Surana, wake up," Nathaniel coaxed her, his gloved hands warming her chilled cheeks. Her eyes flickered opened, squinting in the white landscape. The weather was quickly getting worse, the wind blowing snow around them.

Ashiva looked around, becoming aware of the dead templars around them. She gripped the spear tightly in her hand, gritting her teeth. "How long," she croaked.

"Not long," the archer answered, wrapping her arm around his shoulders. She knew he was lying by the way his left eye twitched. She'd normally call him out, but she had little energy to argue.

They had come across more corpses as they made their way through the halls. The endless sky above was her only reminder that she was not climbing her way to her death through Fort Drakon.

"We're almost out of the tower. Just stay awake a little longer," Nathaniel said. "There are healers in the Inquisition camp. They'll be able to help you."

She nodded, words not coming to her. Ashiva thought something was missing, but struggled to remember what. She could remember a boy in a large hat. _What had been his name? _No, not a boy.

"Where's the spirit?"

"Spirit?"

She was ready to explain when she felt it, a powerful surge of the fade. She clutched her chest, eyes moving upwards to the looming tower above. Snow touch her pale cheeks and the wind tousled her black hair, but she could see the green light peeking from the stone walls.

"We can't leave," she whispered, removing her arm from the warden's shoulder. She adjusted the oversized templar armor, her eyes never leaving the tower. "Not until I find the demon."

""Commander, you're injured. You can barely stand on your own. I will not take you up there to your death," Nathaniel argued, grabbing her hand.

"This isn't a conversation, Warden," asserted Ashiva. The past few weeks were becoming clearer to her. She remembered being trapped in a cell with red lyrium and the visits she had from the envy demon. She wouldn't let it win. She wouldn't let it destroy everything she had worked for.

She reached into the pockets of her armor, grabbing a vial. Without glancing at it, she chugged the contents, feeling the warm liquid strengthen her. "That spirit that helped us said Cullen was here. You said you followed the Inquisition here. That means that the people that came here to help me are up there fighting a powerful demon. We will not leave until that demon goes back to its hole in the fade."

* * *

"We can't hold the keep much longer ser," the young warden archer said fearfully. He couldn't be no older than the Boss had been when he first meet her years ago. His helmet was loose on his head, eyes looking at him expectantly at him for a miracle.

Another explosion rumbled the great hall; the dust lingering on the large chandelier stirred and fell around them. Oghren took a drink from his hip canister, disappointed that it wasn't something stronger than water. He looked over the records the Warden-Commander kept in her office, looking for an answer he wouldn't voice aloud.

The fighting had only gotten worse. The Ferelden Wardens had lost Vigil's Keep's lower courtyard. The vendor carts burned slowly in the background. They had lowered the silverite portcullis in the main courtyard. The merchants huddled in groups in the great room, whispering frantically to their families and friends. They thought it was the end. The Wardens without banners and demons would push through soon enough, destroying everything in their sight.

The dwarven warden drank deeply before spilling the contents on the tiny script belonging to the Hero of Ferelden. He cursed the woman for leaving him with this mess for a second time. He cursed the wardens that were tearing their home apart. He cursed the demons that came through the sodding rift near the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Lastly, he cursed himself for being sober and not thinking to salvage some ale from the local brewery near the front gates.

"Make sure the citizens grab what they can," ordered Oghren.

The archer looked at him, startled. "But...ser, where will they go? The enemy surrounds us."

Glowering at the young man, Oghren threatened. "What did I just order you to do you boy?"

The warden didn't hesitate or question anymore, saluting as he walked backwards from the office. Garvel leaned against the desk next to the dwarf, smoking the wooden pipe he used for special occasions, his eyes glazed in thought. Although maintaining his professionalism among his men and women fighting, he remained anxious. His young daughter huddled with the elven governess he hired nearly two years ago in the basement of the keep with the other women and children. The Seneschal knew there was no safe way to leave through the keep. They were trapped. "He's right dwarf," the human stated finally, voice gravelly from shouting orders. "It won't be long now."

"Aye, you're right," he agreed.

"Then what are we doing in here in this dust covered office," questioned Garvel. "Our men our cowering in their knickers while you sit in here roaming through decades of old documents. What is it you're looking for?"

Oghren didn't answer, flipping through the small folio desciernly.

Mistress Argent, chewed at her bottom lip nervously. "I concur with Ser Garvel," she confided. "We should be gathering the last of our supplies and preparing the last of our men for battle. Why do we linger here? What is it you search for Warden Oghren?"

Peering up at the woman over the book, the dwarf sighed. "After the darkspawn nearly destroyed the keep, Warden-Commander Surana worked alongside Voldrik to fortify the keep. Much of it was reconstructed. It took years, but much of the work that was done wasn't above the surface."

Garvel raised an eyebrow. "Yes, I'm aware she did those things."

"She didn't just work on the walls, Seneschal," Oghren hinted. "They came across ancient pathways through the basement. Warden Surana cleared the ancient paths of darkspawn and reinforced the tunnels."

"Tunnels below us. I wasn't aware of this. This isn't on any records at Weisshaut," Argent noted heatedly, grabbing the book the dwarf possessed.

"Arelessa Surana insisted no one know," Garvel pointed out, a puff of smoke surrounding him. "She didn't think it could be completed with the tunnel collapses."

Oghren lifted a large canvas from the shelf behind the desk, unraveling the large map. Scribbled in blue ink were different equations and diagrams. Circled seven times was Forlorn Cove, the location of a ruined chantry. He remembered Ashiva cleaning the area of bandits, having the Silverite Order patrol the region regularly. A small dashed line connected it to Vigil's Keep.

"I think the boss completed it," Oghren smiled behind his beard. "That sodding elf was always a few steps ahead of everyone."

* * *

It was the first time Alistair saw the Inquisitor's mark flare up, consuming the area in green light. He squinted, looking through the blinding light. The pride demon roared, whether from pain or anger, he didn't know, its body being consumed like it was on fire. It was only a matter of minutes before the rift was closed, Evelyn falling to her knees grasping the hand.

He walked forward to her, kneeling next to her. "So, that's what everyone is talking about," he said absently. "Are you okay?"

She looked at him, blue eyes glazed over, looking for something to grasp that was real. Emotions stirred in him at the look, remembering a time when another looked at him like that. She smiled sadly. "Yeah, I think I am. The damn anchor gets me everytime."

"Well despite the whole hand nearly exploding everything around us, I'm glad you didn't take the demon's offer."

The Inquisitor chuckled. "Virgins did sound pretty good though," she replied.

Alistair laughed, pushing his overgrown bangs away from his face. "Ahh, yeah. One thing I have learned from my experiences is to never trust a demon. Even if they do have virgins."

Evelyn smiled, patting him on the shoulder as she turned to her men, giving instructions. The Tevinter mage was moving boulders with a flicker of his wrist while another group scavenge the chests and belongings of the previous keepers. Tents were being put together, dwarves and mages already at work studying the tainted lyrium. Alistair cringed thinking of having to stay here any longer with the crystals. Since arriving in Emprise du Lion, the whisperings and dreams had only increased.

Sitting on a crumbled boulder, Alistair rubbed his temples. His head pounded and his muscles ached from resisting the calling. He closed his eyes, breathing in the pine smell that seemed to linger around the area. He missed the sounds of the ocean and the taste of salt in the air that was so familiar in Amaranthine. It had been nearly a year since he left, and five months since Wardens were hunting him. Despite what he told himself, he missed _her_ the most. Ashiva had been his friend and companion for so long, it was hard not to know when he began and she ended. They had been nearly inseparable since the fifth blight. He had worried over her when she had left, seeking a cure. Now that she was here, he couldn't help but feel peace.

"It's not her."

Alistair looked up, squinting at the large hat and white hair. "Pardon?"

"You see her, but it's not her," the boy repeated, his cool gaze falling on the elf. "The real one is fighting, praying, and dying."

The warden's eyebrows lowered in confusion, pushing himself to stand up. He was about ready to say something when everything happened from the corner of his eye.

Evelyn's startled cry alerted him. He raised his blade, bewildered to see Ashiva holding the Inquisitor over the edge of the fort with magic he was not familiar with. Swords were raised around him, all pointing to the warden. He pushed forward, shielding the mage from the threat.

"The Inquisitor is a traitor and a fraud. She will destroy everything," Ashiva shouted. "I saw what you have done, what you plan to do. I won't allow anymore, Herald."

"Warden-Commander Surana, stand down," Cullen ordered. "If these acquisitions are true, then we must do this through a trial, not through bloodshed."

Ashiva turned her head, her amber eyes dissolving to a bright green. "There is no time. If I let her walk, everything will be gone."

Cullen sneered, his hardened gaze looking at Alistair. "This is not Ashiva, Alistair. This is nothing more than a demon that has taken her shape and voice. Surely you see this. Stand down Warden Alistair."

He wavered, his eyes lingering on the elf behind him. Was this really a demon? He lowered his shield, stepping back from the elf. "Ash, if it's really you, then you need to let the Inquisitor go. We can settle this back at camp."

"Lies! They're all lies, Alistair," Ashiva screamed, turning to face the blades pointed at her. Her face was twisted and sickly. She raised her hands, mumbling words softly.

The arrow wizzed passed him, piercing Ashiva's shoulder. The spell was disrupted, her screams piercing. Evelyn screamed, waiting for the impending doom to fall, but nothing happened. Alistair recognized the paralysis hex glyph surrounding the woman. Confusion and shouts ran through the Inquisition army, searching for the person responsible.

Alistair recognized Nathaniel perched on the stair rail, another arrow ready to strike another blow. Beside him a woman leaned heavily against a long pole spear, her amber eyes heavily concentrating on the spell. Despite the heavy templar armor and the bruises around her eyes, he recognized her anywhere.

"Ash?"

"Cullen, hurry and retrieve that woman. My spell won't last much longer," Ashiva said, her voice hoarse.

It cackled, its eyes flinting on mage in the distance. "You were suppose to be dead. I gave the order to have you put down."

The Warden-Commander limped towards the demon, her face grim. "It appears your henchmen failed. Now tell me what you wanted with me."

In a flash, the demon changed, its form scraggly and lean. It glared at the elf in disdain, tilting its head towards its audience. "You already know," it hissed. "I already told you. You'll die before you see it, though. You're already dying. You won't make it out of here alive."

The demon belted a high-pitched scream before to vanished in a puff of smoke, rising above the warriors surrounding it, moving towards the exit. A green barrier magically appeared, blocking their escape.

"That's not good," Alistair muttered.

"Can someone explain to me what the fade is going on," ordered Evelyn, stumbling away from the edge, ready for battle.

"Well Inquisitor, it appears we were tricked and now we're trapped on top of a crumbling building in a blizzard," Dorian retorted. "Might I suggest next time we travel to a warmer location where we won't be fighting for our lives."

Ashiva cursed. "We need to destroy this barrier," she stated. She pointed at Dorian. "You mage, we need to break this."

"Reinforcements are on their way," Nathaniel informed as red templars pushed through the barrier.

"Maker's breath," Cullen whispered, clenching his sword. "Archers, fire at will! Protect the mages."

Warden Alistair stepped in front of elf. He could already see the wear of conjuring the paraysis hex had done to her, "Ash, maybe you should rest."

"Maybe you should shut that mouth of yours and worry about your ass. I'm fine," she shouted, her eyebrow knitted in concentration, her breathing was haggard, sweat beading on her forehead.

He snorted, parrying and lunging at red templar aiming for the mage. "You look like shit. What did they even do to you?"

"Nothing that can't be taken care of with elfroot and rest," she grinned. "It's good to see you too, Ali."

"Just do me a favor and _never_ do that again," he replied. "We've watched each other's backs for a decade. Next time I go with you."

The templars were no match to the Inquisition forces. Evelyn was a formidable opponent, slashing with precision of a rogue while Alistair and Cullen pushed themselves through the brutes. Cole moved through the battlefield like a shadow, appearing in short increments. Dorian and Ashiva worked together, blending their magic into the demon's barrier.

In a matter of minutes that felt like an eternity, the barrier shattered. The ruins rumbled beneath him from the explosion. Alistair staggered, checking the perimeter for more templars. Seeing none, he sighed in relief. "It's over."

"Envy is gone," Cole said softly. "It has plans."

"It doesn't matter right now," Evelyn stated. "We messed up what they had started here. It will take time for it to be able to formulate its plans. In the meantime, we need to report back to camp before this storm gets worse."

"Camp? I like the sound of that," Dorian muttered. "After all this time, warmth and a bed sounds wonderful."

Evelyn grinned, nudging the mage. "I think you earned it today my friend. I just hope Varric and the others came out unharmed."

"They're fine," Blackwall reassured her. "Probably already got a head start on dinner."

The Inquisitor shook her head, fighting the smile. She quirked an eyebrow at Alistair. "And what about you? Ready to call it a day, Warden?"

Alistair exhaled, the air puffing in the cold breeze. The adrenaline was wearing away, leaving him exhausted and sore from the overexertion. He tilted his head to the side. "Think you can walk out of here Ash?"

Turning to face the Warden-Commander, Alistair staggered. She sat on the ground, leaning on her elbows, her head in her hands. The elf's breathing was irregular, as if she couldn't get air into her lungs. She coughed violently, blood splattering the snow-covered ground. "Ash?"

* * *

_They stepped into the soft glowing rotunda room. The griffon statues stood vigilant overlooking the raised altar in the center. Glancing over the edge, she could see in the distance the campfire where the Kirkwall Templars stayed. She felt her heart rapidly beating, wishing she could catch a glimpse of the knight-captain from where she stood. Had he thought of her like she had of him? She sighed, closing her eyes. Now wasn't the time to think over her longings. Ashiva forced herself to continue her investigation. _

_The room was empty, raided for anything of obvious value. She knew however, how Grey Wardens kept their secrets. She walked to the center of the room, clenching the knife from her boot. Cutting her finger, she placed it on the engraved griffin on each pedestal._

"_Commander, what are you doing?"_

_She sighed, looking at the young mage. "Seeking answers, Ben," she explained._

_Ben frowned. "You seek answers by cutting yourself? Isn't this blood magic?"_

"_Shush, shemlen," Fennar said. "Commander Surana knows what she's doing."  
_

"_Some answers require a price," Ashiva replied, touching the last griffin with her bloodied hand. The room rumbled, the floor at the center of the altar disappearing. _

"_Holy Maker, what was that," Tori exclaimed, stepping away from the altar._

_Rawley raised his blade, his grey eyes staring at the hole. "Commander, this can't be good."_

"_This reminds me of the Temple of Sacred Ashes," Oghren mumbled behind her. "I'm watching your back, Commander."_

_The elven mage nodded her acknowledgement, crawling to the hole in the center. She peered inside. It was dark, darker than any corridor of the deep roads. Magic surrounded her, making her disoriented. A chill ran down her spine, but she remained still. She sought answers._

"_Ben, hand me the lamp," she ordered. She took the lamp, lighting it with a flint. Holding it in her left hand, and Spellweaver in her right, she dangled her legs in the hole looking at the wardens. "Tori and I will go. You five will stay and search for anything left by wardens. The First Warden expects everything to be wiped from this place."_

"_This is crazy, Commander," Ben complained, pushing the hair away from his face. "It shouldn't just be you and her. She'll kill you if she suspects you losing control!"_

"_Shut up, mage," barked the templar, stepping towards the mage._

"_I have a name Templar," Ben countered, stepping up to be eye to eye with the woman._

"_Stand down, boy," Oghren, pushed between them. _

_Ashiva tilted her head, forcing a smile on her face. "It will be fine, Ben," she assured, nodding towards Tori to follow her. "We'll be back."_

_She dropped into the hole, fighting a scream as she landed in water knee deep. She pushed through the anxiety of drowning, lifting the torch to see around her. Tori joined her seconds later, falling with a grunt in the water. _

"_Damn, that drop was a doozy," the ex-templar stated, scratching the top of her head, the short cropped auburn hair sticking up from the ministrations. _

"_Stay alert, Warden," Ashiva said, waking through the enclosed space. "I sense we are close to the source."_

_The two women walked silently through the hidden corridor, their weapons unsheathed. Ashiva swallowed her fear, leading them through. The water grew in height, now wading in waist high. She inhaled slowly, stopping to control herself._

"_Commander, it's okay," Tori whispered. "We can go back. Rawley probably wouldn't mind taking your place."_

"_I'm fine," Ashiva answered shakily._

"_Ser, don't lie to me. You're not the only circle mage afraid of water," the woman retorted. _

_Exhaling, Ashiva glared at the templar. "Yeah, and why is that? Forced to stay in our stone prisons surrounded by a trial we can't fathom to cross without drowning," snapped the elf._

_Tori stepped back, squinting in the light. "Commander, I didn't mean that. I only meant too...well...what I'm asking is if you are alright? You look pale...and you're shaking."_

_Blinking, Ashiva looked at her sword hand, her sword shaking in her grasp. She felt like she was on fire, yet she shivered as if exposed to the cold. Her mind felt foggy, and the voices only seemed to get louder the farther they went. "I don't know," she whispered, avoiding the templar's eyes. "I don't know what is happening to me. Since we came here, I've not felt like myself. I'm losing touch with reality...as if I am becoming one with the veil."_

_She heard the templar sigh behind her, the heavy armor rattling. "You're losing control over yourself. That's why you wanted me," Tori said, as if the revelation shook her. _

_Ashiva didn't console the women nor did she give her an answer. She moved forward, her hand touching a small indention in the stone. "It's here. I can feel it."_

_Her pale hands pushed on the stone. She could hear ancient wheels turn inside, a door opening beside them. Reminding herself to breath, she stepped into the small room, her torch reflecting off the small chest lying on the stone table. She melted the the simple lock with the touch of her fingers, opening the chest with little effort. Inside she found what she sought; documents of the construction of the prison and of the prisoner that once was enclosed here. She tucked it into her breast pocket. _

"_Did we find what we were looking for," Tori asked, looking around the small room. _

_Ashiva shook her head, stepping out of the room. She could hear it now, the singing. She moved toward the sound, only stopping until she found the red lyrium. It grew around a cracked sphere like ivy. _

"_This must have been where the prisoner was kept," Tori muttered. "It must have been incredibly powerful to be kept here for eternity. Why did Hawke awaken it?"_

"_Because it would have continued to bring its goons to him," Ashiva stated. "He did what he had to do. He killed it before it could gain its full strength."_

"_Are we done here?"_

_Ashiva tilted her head in concentration, lifting her hand towards the sphere. Before she could grasp what she was doing, her hand was on the object, a startled gasp escaping her lips. _

"_Commander," Tori grabbed her from behind, pulling the elf away from the stone. Ashiva fell limped in the templar's arms, staring at the stone glowing in the water. Images invaded her mind, burning images of fire and destruction. She clenched her eyes closed, fighting the overcoming pressure in her head._

"_Dammit, Commander! Stay with me!"_

_She could hear it in her head. The song was everywhere and nowhere. In the darkness, the wordless song was slowly becoming a chant. _

"_Look upon the Temple of Dumat_

_God of Silence, who speaks to the faithful in dreams"_

_She could feel the veil enclosing on her, devouring her whole. Spellweaver burned brightly at her side, the once blue hue turning black. _

"_No words of desire may sway His will_

_No cry of valor may stand against Him"_

"_Shit, shit, shit," Tori screamed behind her. "Holy Maker, Please forgive me."_

"_For His Silence conquers all_

_And His Secrets are shared only with the worthy"_

_She gasped, the blade touching her shoulder. The magical field vanished, fading as she crumbled to her knees. Ashiva felt her mana draining from her, leaving her breathless. She could hear Tori shouting for assistance before she lost all consciousness._

* * *

"Ash?"

Cullen pushed through the small crowd gathering around the wardens. Alistair knelled next to Ashiva. From this close he could see it. The pale skin and blood red blotches around her eyes and neck. Her hands shook. He saw the blood on the ground that she had spat out. He could feel his heart beating rapidly in his chest. It was just as the envy demon had said. She was dying.

He dropped to her side, pulling her to rest against his chest. Her eyes were closed in heavy concentration, muttering something he couldn't understand. He pushed the hair sticking to her sweating forehead, tucking them carefully behind her pointed ears. "Stay with me, Ashiva. Stay with me."

She coughed. "I wish it was that easy, my dear lion," she whispered hoarsely.

Lowering his eyebrows in concentration, he lifted her eyelids. Her normally clear amber eyes were glazed over, the cornea tinted a pinkish red. Cullen swore, looking at the archer standing near by. "How much lyrium has she had?"

Nathaniel blinked slowly, looking down at the Warden Commander. "I gave her a vial when I found her. Being imprisoned by templars, I thought she had been depleted of her mana and she needed to heal herself before we could move."

"So, just one," he asked, lowering Ashiva to her side as she began to twitch violently in his arms. Her fist were clenched, white and nearly translucent.

"No, she found another, in the clothing she wore. She drank it before we came up here," Nathaniel answered.

Ordering Alistair to hold the elf down, he checked the templar armor pockets, grasping three vials in the hip pocket. Taking them out, he swore under his breath, seeing the residue on the glass to be red. Red lyrium.

"No wonder she was able to keep conjuring despite her injuries," he swore under his breath. He was familiar with mana imbalances where a mage would intake enough lyrium to kill themselves. He also knew that red lyrium was known to give templars stronger powers. Was this why the mage was able to walk despite her injuries and to use incredible magic after being depleted for nearly a month? He pounded his fist on the ground. "Dammit, Ash."

"The song is loud, calling her. She fights it, but it's no use...it will soon devour her," whispered Cole.

Magic swirled around her as she spasmed, forcing the crowd to step away. Solemnly, he reached into his breast pocket, pulling out the vial of lyrium he made before he came to Emprise du Lion. He had sworn to stop, to remove this one thing that kept him tied to the templars and away from her. He looked at it, the blue glowing in the dim light.

Evelyn grabbed his shoulder as he uncorked the glass container, her gaze uncertain. "Cullen, what are you doing? You said you were done with that lifestyle."

"And if I don't do something, she will die," Cullen argued. "and I will never forgive myself, if that happens."

The Inquisitor opened her mouth, but quickly closed it, nodding her understanding as she stepped back. With one final look at the blue potion, he drank it. Grabbing his sword, he stepped into the magic field raising his blade, smiting the mage.

* * *

_Isana_-dwarven word for lyrium

_Fulmina velox , diu fulmen_\- (Latin) Lightning quick , long bolt

_Eam tandem recepto robore_\- (Latin) It finally regained strength


End file.
